Viperinae
by Shadovar
Summary: Mozenrath contracts a trio of mystical assassins and gets more than he bargained for. A work in progress. If you are willing to read, you're willing to at least review. WARNING: Not M/J-centric.
1. The Summoning

**Author's Note:** It's been a _long_ time since I've written fanfiction, and even longer since I've pulled out my old Aladdin VHS tapes to refresh my memory on the nature of the series. I decided I'd give it another shot, and of course use my favorite villain: Mozenrath. I don't think Disney intended for Moze to become so popular amongst an older crowd, but isn't that how most fanfiction is? In any case, the story is still in its infancy and will be updated as my muse sees fit. Read and review.

_Viperinae_  
by Shadovar

In youth, one is often taught that nothing is as it seems and that above all else—appearances are deceiving. This is most probably the reason snakes are representative of all that is deceptive and wicked in the world, and in light of recent events, one could not blame them. Snakes were sleek and deceptive, could wear the mantle of harmlessness as easy as any lamb or doe in the brush, but when cornered—when _provoked_—their strike was as swift and deadly as a blade, and their poison was as corrosive as acid. It was most likely why **she** had been given the moniker of Adder, but collectively, the trio of hard-born assassins was called the _Viperinae_, each taking on the name of a chosen serpent that played to their strengths. Of the trio, the Adder was considered the most deadly for its poison was slow to act, dragging its victims into agonizing minutes of fever and flashes of hindsight before their failing vision before they took their last seizing breath and all was lost. There was no one in living memory who had ever successfully staved off the assassins, and their only natural rivals were just as destructive and they were called the Immortalis. The Immortalis offered their services and loyalties to none but their god, and the _Viperinae _were little more than mercenaries armed with the training and knowledge of the human condition that would make the hardest heart quake.

They were precisely the individuals _he _needed to ensure that his plans would go smoothly. However, getting in contact with the vituperative vipers was a lot easier said than done, and it was a long and tiresome task of calling down their handler—a god that was little more than a child playing chess with human lives. He materialized shortly after moonrise, and with little fanfare that was expected of gods of his immense caliber. The sorcerer watched him with a cool, expressionless stare, and when he met the god's eyes, he saw that there was nothing there…nothing but the cosmos. Stars and planets, galaxies wheeling within his vision, a nebula gave birth to more stars before they died. Mozenrath witnessed life and death in cosmic form with one look before the god began to _speak_.

"You are quite persistent in your call, little sorcerer." His voice plucked at the delicate web of magic that permeated the Land of the Black Sand as if he were attempting to pluck out an appropriate dirge for the sorcerer who stood before him. Mozenrath did not falter. He had lived long enough and seen more than enough at Destane's side to be able to stand before a god and not cower at the might of his presence alone. Instead, he smiled, giving a flourishing bow as if to mock the god, who continued to watch him impassively.

"I would not be the ruler of this land if I lacked for persistence, your eminence," the sorcerer remarked sweetly, "but rest assured I have called you for a purpose." The god's chin inclined towards the sorcerer, cosmic eyes narrowing.

"You seek to contract the _Viperinae_." Mozenrath's smile stayed even though he was not surprised the god already knew his intentions. The god said nothing more, as if waiting for Mozenrath to confirm the assumption. When the god seemed to find what he needed, he continued.

"You have the desired method of payment?" Mozenrath paused, even as Xerxes slithered from behind him, observing the god curiously with his beady eyes and misshapen mouth agape in awe. The god did not even acknowledge the eel and instead fixed the sorcerer with a relentless stare that remained consistent. Mozenrath grinned.

"You will be paid in full, your eminence, not to worry…" His voice trailed as he caught sight of the slight tension in the god's jaw.

"…once the _Viperinae _complete their assignment in success of course." The sorcerer turned and began to walk, and was surprised when a steely grip stayed his steps. Mozenrath hazarded a slow glance towards the eminent being at his back, saying nothing. The god was smiling, and the young sorcerer was almost certain he was mocking him.

"The _Viperinae _will succeed. I'd have no use for them otherwise. But the payment will be collected the moment their task is finished. If not, then you will pay the price yourself." Mozenrath did not understand the nature of the "yourself" portion, knowing it most likely ran the gamut of a blood sacrifice, but he said nothing, enamoring the god only with a smile of acquiescence before he continued on his way.

"They will arrive three days from now. Instruct them as you see fit and have a care with what you say and do to them. I will not harm you, but they are trained killers and will not hesitate to bite the hand that feeds them if the hand is too firm for their liking." The god spoke as if these assassins were his children, as if they had been trained at his very hands—which was likely true if Mozenrath read the legends properly. However, he could not help himself.

"And if they turn and I destroy them?" He posed the open-ended challenge with all the petulance that he was known for. The god's brows rose and he laughed, a sound that plucked at the very fiber of Mozenrath's existence. And then, the god was simply not there, but his laughter chased the sorcerer down the empty halls of the Citadel and into his study. Three days from now he would have at his beck and call the most deadly assassins the Seven Deserts would ever see.

Three days from now, everything would be his.


	2. The Arrival

If there was anything far more tedious than sitting through meeting after meeting regarding the encroaching wedding, it was not readily apparent. The princess of Agrabah could no more yawn from the excitement than she could inwardly balk at the pang of regret and nostalgia that soaked her psyche like oil. Agrabah had been quiet as of late and the lack of adventure had set the princess back on her predestined path once more to becoming the next sultana of the kingdom. Aladdin had catching up to do as far as palace etiquette and diplomacy, but as a celebrated hero of Agrabah, he was afforded far more leniency than would have been his right had he been high-born. The sun had been steadily sinking behind the golden dunes when the meetings finally concluded and Jasmine was released from the tyranny of blue-blood life and free to wander on her own. It wasn't long before she found herself back in her own chambers, feeling the oppressive heat of the outside weigh on her head and shoulders. A bath was readied for her and she readily disrobed and sank into the heated water sprinkled with rose petals and scented with lavender oil. Almost immediately, she was relaxed.

"We could use some diabolical attack right about now." She said with a single exasperated exhale of breath. She sank lower until only her face was above the surface, her hair becoming waterlogged and plastered to her back. In retrospect, all the adventures did them all good, starting with Jafar and progressing from there. It let them know just how much of a threat the world around their kingdom could pose. She briefly wondered if the surrounding kingdoms experienced similar troubles with the likes of Mirage, Sadira, and Mechanicles and wondered how they fared against such powerful foes. She wondered how much of their victories toted the line of blind luck and cleverly prudent planning. There were times where she had thought they would never make it, and she wondered in the events that she and Aladdin found themselves bereft of Genie and Carpet how they would fare against their foes in the future.

Perhaps a bath was not what she needed to free herself of the tyranny of matters of the state. Jasmine tarried a while longer before rising from the bath to groom herself and return to her chambers for a much needed rest. She could worry over the matters on the morrow with Aladdin at her side and a clearer head.

. . .

While dawn crested the Seven Deserts, the Land of the Black Sand was pitched in eternal night, as if light feared to impugn its touch past the border of golden dunes into the pitch of a realm that harbored death close to its jagged edged heart. Mozenrath did not particularly care for dawn as it was not an element in which he worked his best. Three days had passed and he anxiously awaited the arrival of his newly leashed vipers. There was no indication in the texts about how they arrived, only that they would when they were contracted. It was not in his nature to lose patience, but the anticipation hung heavy on the air like a dew-drenched violet and as his bare hand tightened on the balcony, he saw them cresting a dune in the distance just after moonrise. Three figures alone riding hard on horseback, little more than silhouettes against the star-speckled sky. Mozenrath grinned hard and left the balcony to go and meet the trio of killers at the entrance to the citadel. They were there by the time he materialized before the large doors that remained, for the most part, adamantly shut. Three black Friesians stood at attention snorting and breathing heavily from what was obviously a hard ride. Mozenrath watched the trio silently, as if calculating the risks of contracting these deadly mercenaries. They were wrapped in black as he expected of their kind, and as they dismounted their steeds with graceful ease, Mozenrath noticed their size differences.

The first _Viperinae _was tall, towering over the sorcerer by at least a head, with broad shoulders and sturdy legs. When he pulled down the black scarf around his face, Mozenrath noted his dark skin and the look of intensity that formed tension around his mouth in a perpetual frown of disapproval.

"Greetings," Mozenrath said evenly to the three of them and they did not respond…as expected of their kind. They were here to perform their task and leave, no more and no less. Any more than that and he was certain he would not be able to bring them to heel. However, he considered that they were not mindless killers that would run amuck if the tether was cut. He observed the second _Viperinae_, a slender man who had the look of a feline about his features. His skin was dark as well, and of the two men he'd observed thus far, he noted that this man radiated danger as if he wore it every day. He was a pure killer, Mozenrath read that in the way he stood, the way he shifted his weight with such subtlety that had the sorcerer not been watching he may have missed the change. Finally, his dark gaze siphoned to the smallest of the three. When this one pulled down the scarf Mozenrath hid his surprise with a smile.

A woman.

The third _Viperinae _was female, with skin that was darker than Agrabah's sand, but slightly lighter than a cocoa bean. She had eyes that spoke to him in one word, and when their gazes met, she inclined her chin a touch as if in greeting. Mozenrath caught sight of tendrils of black hair from beneath the cowl of her cloak. He was even more surprised when she spoke.

"Mozenrath," her voice was a noose of black silk that threatened to choke off any retorts should he harbor them at the tip of his tongue. She spoke as if she were pouring honey from her mouth, and he could almost taste his name on her lips. "I would suggest," and the word was anything but, "you be quick about your business. We've other clients to attend to and we are not likely to wait for you to consider reneging on the deal anytime soon." Her words sobered him, and he chuckled.

"Of course, of course. Come in. I do not like to be seen as an improper host to my guests." In a flourish, flames of blue and black engulfed them and they were transported to his throne room. Mozenrath was used to the vertigo that followed a teleportation spell, and he saw that the _Viperinae _were as well, save for a slight movement of their feet—they were trained well to endure such nuances. The sorcerer turned to face them.

"I trust your handler has briefed you on the nature of my request?" The trio regarded him impassively, and the female—obviously their superior—spoke.

"You wish to systematically conquer the Seven Desert kingdoms, starting with Persis." She spoke with confidence, unfaltering, as if she had done this before. Of course she had, Mozenrath chided himself inwardly. Decimating the lives of others was their bread and butter. Anything else would be unreal. He pointed his gloved finger at her with a grin.

"You're as perceptive as I had hoped you would be. What is your name?" The woman's face did not change.

"Our names are irrelevant. You need us to weaken the foundations of these kingdoms, and that is what we will do. We will begin on the morrow." Mozenrath decided he did not like this woman. She was self-assured, yes, but she seemed to think him incompetent of conquering a kingdom on his own. As if reading his mind, the woman smiled, her two compatriots moving to flank her left and right shoulder.

"You are new to this method of conquering, sorcerer. You may have taken the Land of the Black Sand, but that is because there was only one person to oppose you. You are the ruler of an empty kingdom." Mozenrath's lip curled in a snarl at her words. He had defeated Destane, yes, but the cost of it was staggeringly high—empty kingdom or no. The woman's brows raised in apparent surprise.

"Remember you are under my orders by contract. For now, your loyalties lie with me—"

"Our loyalties lie only with the highest bidder, Mozenrath. As we have been told, your debt to us has not yet been paid." It was a more serpentine voice that cut through the air like a finely honed blade. It was the slender male who spoke on behalf of the trio now. Mozenrath knew they would be trouble, but he would not have paid the price if he knew they were mouthy. But the man spoke truth.

"If I cannot have your true names, then give me your call-names." Mozenrath was tired of them already. He reconsidered his deal with the god that called itself an _Aljenu_. These three had no scruples about treating clients with respect.

"I am called the Cobra." The largest male spoke first, his voice sounding as if it came from the bottom of a well…deep and brooding. Mozenrath considered him. He was obviously the brute strength of the group.

"I am the Asp." The slender male spoke offhandedly, as if this mission was not worth his time.

"And I am the Adder." Mozenrath eyed the woman curiously who had pulled back the cowl of her cloak with a deceptive smile that turned sinister in her eyes. He did not trust her—and as well he shouldn't. The _Viperinae _acted alone as well as in a group, and he had read of her treachery. Her beauty was far more appealing now that she had removed that cumbersome cloak. "If you've no confidence in our competence, Mozenrath, by all means, feel free to test us however you see fit." Mozenrath liked challenges, and the look in her eyes dared him to try her, but he knew his strength lay in arcane might rather than physical prowess. She was lithe, she was beautiful, but he saw no weapons on her that he could name. He knew they were capable spellcasters in their own right, but their true lethal abilities were with blades, arrows, and close-quarters combat. Mozenrath smiled at the Adder and lifted his finger and in an instant, lightning struck. The Adder slid her foot back to brace herself against the force, but Mozenrath was surprised to see a ripple in front of her that roiled with flames, absorbing the lightning with ease. The spell was not powerful—far from it—but had it struck her she would have needed the aid of a healer and possibly a Necromancer if she had been less-protected. Instead, all it did was rustle the strands of her dark hair and cause her to smile.

"I believe he has accepted my challenge." The Adder mused as she lifted her hand. Mozenrath saw her fingers moving rapidly in succession, as if drumming them on something. She was weaving a spell and Mozenrath did not know if he had the proper counter for whatever magic she planned to use. The magic in the air warbled with a tension thick enough to choke them all, so both Asp and Cobra stepped aside before the Adder released the spell. It dissipated before Mozenrath's eyes, and her laughter chased him back into the reality that was not controlled by her.

"I was speaking in jest, sorcerer," she said with a bow, "what would you have us do?" Mozenrath glanced between the three of them and noticed they all had smiles on their faces and mocking laughter in their eyes.


	3. The Offer

**Author's Note: **I am inherently horrible when writing diplomatic intrigue, so excuse the brevity of the following scene. As always, read and review.

"I have seen shadows stirring in the West, _sa'hib_, and they are not the ordinary shadows that are conjured by the Land of the Black Sand." The councilor spoke in a foreboding manner and siphoned his gaze about the room as if to elicit some sort of reaction from his fellow council members, and finally the sultan himself. Persis was a flourishing desert kingdom that sprawled the coastline, and of the Seven Desert kingdoms, it was the most prosperous for its ports and accesses to kingdoms beyond Arabia. Their navy was arguably the best on the water, and their land defenses were like cliffsides to the ocean.

But what they had in strength of arms, they lacked in the arcane, and that was precisely what Councilor Saidii was touching on this afternoon.

"Mozenrath is stirring up a plot, and most likely it is far more sinister than his previous attempts to conquer us. His realm has been far too quiet as of late and I have learned that any realm of that nature that lays quietly is more dangerous than one who blatantly accosts us." He was standing now, his face flushed with vigor, and the sultan, a man fresh into his forties, watched him impassively. He was heavyset, a sign that he was as prosperous as his kingdom, and he interlaced his jewel-bedecked fingers thoughtfully.

"Mozenrath has always made a play for Agrabah, councilor—he would not dare attempt so foolish an attempt on my kingdom. Unlike Agrabah, who relies solely upon a street urchin and a _djini _to save them each time…we have strength in numbers and arms. Any attacks Mozenrath makes on us can be cut down by the sword—not relying on the fickle nature of magic and a misbegotten street rat to protect us while we sit and wait on hope and prayer." His voice was wheezed out from beneath the weight of his massive chin, and a light sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead from the effort of saying so much in one breath. The councilors were silent for a time before a new voice broke the heavy air, sweet and honeyed as if poured from heaven.

"So if you do not plan to defeat Mozenrath's powerful magics, have you considered my offer of diplomacy, _sa'hib_?" Heads turned to the now shutting double doors of the war room to the speaker standing before them. Saidii stared, mouth agape, and the sultan smiled.

"Ah, Lady Maharat, you do us too much honor gracing us with your presence. I am sure you are familiar with the Ambassador of the Black Sand Kingdom, gentlemen." No one said a word. The woman stood like a painting from a man's dream, her dark hair bound in a single braid that followed the serpentine length of her spine. Her skin was dark brown so rich and silken to the eye that one feared they could wrap themselves in her—and from the looks on some of the councilor's faces—they _wanted _to wrap themselves up in her. Lady Maharat was swathed in a silk of pure, unblemished black that followed the curves and lines that sculpted her body. She wore no jewelry, save a circlet of onyx atop her head with a single blood ruby that sat on her brow. She had a mouth that made the conversation itself blush for shame of her speaking, and eyes that seemed to swallow the light. For all the spell she wove with her presence alone, it was Councilor Saidii who broke the tentative weave in a burst of indignation.

"An _ambassador_?! And a _female _no less! Mozenrath mocks us by sending a woman to do what? Negotiate? His crimes are beyond treasonous and death would be too much of a mercy for the likes of him. Who are you to speak in his stead?" Lady Maharat regarded the councilor evenly, her smile unwavering, but her eyes held naught but the frost of a chilling winter with the promise of death hovering behind the snow that fell in them. Saidii drew back slightly.

"Mozenrath sees that it is futile to attempt to conquer the Seven Kingdoms by force. He wishes to negotiate a treaty that he may do penance for his crimes and trouble you no longer. As you all know," Lady Maharat's eyes now regarded the councilors as a group, "the Land of the Black Sand lacks the resources necessary to be a prosperous kingdom on its own. I have proposed to my sovereign negotiating a matter of trade. Mozenrath is a master of the arcane, but…he needs your help in providing the vitality that makes a kingdom what it is." She spoke as if she loved the kingdom herself, and she walked forward to rest her hands on the table gently, her eyes serious, her smile waning to one of hopeful intent. The sultan was smiling at her, although his intent was entirely salacious. Lady Maharat did not falter.

"I am pleased that Mozenrath has decided to forsake his foolish ambitions in favor of civility, Lady Maharat," he began, "but councilor Saidii is right—his crimes far outweigh any penance he could do to redeem himself. He must pay for his crimes somehow. We do not give succor to tyrannical criminals." Lady Maharat's lips tightened visibly.

"But you would give succor to me. You would allow me to come here on a mission from my sovereign, only to dash them away because of some long-standing grudge, _sa'hib_? I am not pleading on his behalf, but he is a sultan in his own right, irrespective of the crimes he has committed against your people. Even so, his focus has been primarily on Agrabah, who have more reason than naught to turn me away. When was the last time he attempted to drown your kingdom in his mystical sand?" The councilors were silent again as both ambassador and sultan stared one another down. After a stretch of agonizing minutes, the sultan adjusted in his seat and sighed.

"I will give the matter consideration. For now, know that any attempts made to attack my kingdom and its people that can be traced to Mozenrath will negate your chances for a treaty." Lady Maharat dipped her head in respect.

"You are too kind, _sa'hib_." She murmured demurely. The sultan waved his hand. "You are all dismissed. We will reconvene anon to discuss other matters of state." As the council members filed out, Lady Maharat felt a steely grip on her arm, pulling her beyond a curtained doorway in the hall into a small washroom.

"Deceptive little snake," Councilor Saidii hissed balefully, "do not think you can charm your way to the sultan's favor. Do not think I do not see what game you play." Lady Maharat regarded him with that cool, even stare again.

"Any game I am playing has long since been won, councilor. Mozenrath will have his treaty, and when he is openly shaking hands with your sultan I will be there to laugh at your pitiful expense." There was laughter in her eyes already and Saidii raised his hand to strike her. Instead he jerked her even closer until her body was pressed against him, trapped between the marble wall and him. She could smell the faint stench of wine on his breath as he brought is mouth close to her face.

"Take care not to tip your hand too soon, woman. You will find that you are little more than guppy swimming amongst seasoned sharks if you do…and the waters will run red if you ere." Lady Maharat said nothing in retort as the councilor left her in the washroom. She leaned against the fountain and looked up into the shined pane of a mirror.

"The bait has been cast, and they are sniffing in curiosity." She murmured coldly. The mirror rippled, and Mozenrath's countenance appeared to block out her own reflection.

"Well-played, Adder. I admit you had me fooled when you pleaded on my behalf. Proceed as planned…and take care not to hurt Saidii too badly. His lust for the sultan's favor can be deadly." Mozenrath's smirk seemed to irritate the assassin.

"I have dealt with his type before. His lust for _me _will soon outweigh any favor he craves." Mozenrath was quiet for a moment, considering her. It was true, while she was not the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon, there was something about her that was inherently _wild_—something that begged to be tamed, as if one wished to cup a living flame in their hands without fear of the burns they would surely sustain. He imagined how many foolish men had attempted to cup the serpent in their hands only to feel the sting of her bittersweet poison, and while they writhed in death, she had long since slithered out of the line of sight and out of their lives forever.

He would have to be careful with this one…a woman was deadly, but a woman who knew she was deadly was far more detrimental to one's well-being.

"Is there aught else you wish to say, Mozenrath? I've a sultan to seduce." Mozenrath perked a brow.

"By all means, don't let me keep you. Where are your compatriots?" The Adder smirked tightly, the humor never reaching her dark eyes.

"Doing what they were trained to do."


	4. The Currency

"It's been months, Jasmine, I think you're just getting nervous because the wedding is so close on the horizon." Aladdin had joined Jasmine for a late lunch on her balcony, but he noticed Jasmine had barely touched her meal, and instead occasionally fidgeted in her seat. She spoke, finally, tiring of Aladdin's reassurance and decided it was time he knew what had been nettling away at the back of her mind.

"I heard father speaking with one of his council members today," she began, "and apparently Mozenrath has been sending an ambassador to negotiate with the neighboring kingdoms." Aladdin raised a questioning brow, wondering how the conversation had shifted from matrimony to the devious sorcerer who was amongst one of their most deadly foes since Jafar. Jasmine fixed him with an even stare.

"So what? Maybe he's finally turning over a new leaf? It would do us some good to—" Jasmine cut Aladdin off with a disapproving _tsk_.

"No, Aladdin. This isn't like him to suddenly abandon ambition. He's been negotiating trade agreements and the neighboring kingdoms have been _agreeing _to this. What if this is some elaborate plot to weaken us?" Aladdin saw her point, but it was still rather farfetched as he didn't think systematic diplomacy was Mozenrath's style—and he said so. Jasmine shook her head.

"But think about it. Every time he has made a move to conquer us via force, he's been thwarted by us. Notice that we haven't been attacked for months now—and the neighboring kingdoms are suddenly harboring ambassadors…there is no one in Mozenrath's realm—how does he have an ambassador?" Jasmine knew her paranoia worried Aladdin, but with the wedding date encroaching like a looming storm, she worried that Mozenrath would somehow succeed this time around. Aladdin shook his head.

"Jasmine, if he had wanted to conquer the surrounding kingdoms, he would have done so. From what I'm hearing, his treaty agreements sound pretty legit. No assassination attempts made on the sultan's life, and aside from the usual intrigue that comes with being in the royal court…I don't see anything wrong with him trying to become part of the solution instead of constantly causing the problems. Who knows, if this treaty thing works out, we can probably actually benefit from it." Jasmine stood suddenly.

"I think I just lost my appetite." She murmured quietly and soundlessly left the balcony, vanishing into the curtains.

. . .

Moonrise came, and with it came the _Viperinae_. Mozenrath watched them crest the same eastern dune as they had many nights prior. As usual, their Friesian mounts tirelessly spirited them to his threshold, and the black-cloaked riders dismounted to give him an update on their progress.

"We have taken Persis," The Adder said evenly, as if telling him news of the next day's weather. Mozenrath smirked, gloved fingertips stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Have we now? This is good news. How did you do it?" The Adder glanced to her compatriots, giving them permission to speak to their contractor. The Asp spoke first.

"We have sewn the seeds of discord in the hearts of the sultan's people," he said quietly, and one could sense the smile in his voice, "and from them shall sprout the roots of rebellion. The sultan's extravagant lifestyle has helped a great deal, and his lack of a qualified heir also adds to the unrest. The Adder has in turn whispered to the sultan that you may be able to restore order to the ensuing chaos." The Cobra spoke next, his well-deep voice seeming to shake the very grains of sand beneath their feet.

"I have put the weapons of revolution in the hands of the budding faction leaders that are cropping all over the city. I surmise that the powder keg will explode within a matter of a few weeks. That is when you will come in personally to restore order…" It was the Adder who spoke next.

"And you will then control the sultan, have his ear, and his favor. From there, you can have Persis with the sultan as your puppet." Mozenrath liked how these vipers operated. The Adder had already sank her pernicious fangs into the sultan, suggesting that Mozenrath could help restore peace to his lands. Admittedly, this slow encroachment was not good for his ambitions, but it was working flawlessly thus far. After a moment of deliberation, he regarded the trio with a smirk that was as slick as it was cold.

"And what of Madina?" He spoke of Persis' neighbor. At this rate, by the time he reached Agrabah, he would have the other six desert kingdoms at his beck and call—they could not possibly touch him, then. The Adder smiled.

"The sultan of Madina is young, and thus impressionable. He likes to defy convention, and having a female ambassador cater to his needs has lent me his ear. I suspect we will not even have to spark a revolution to win his favor. He is already considering a meeting with you, my lord." Mozenrath noted her tone of voice had taken a seductive lull, and their eyes met. He could not read what hovered behind them, as if they were a foggy window and the writing upon them was backwards and upside down. The Adder winked, and Mozenrath knew then what the look meant. He'd be damned if he let a snake into his bed—especially one who had not been paid for her mercenary services yet.

"Good, good. What news from Agrabah?" Saying the most coveted kingdom's name nearly sent a shiver down his spine. The Adder canted her head slightly, as if puzzled.

"My contact there says that the sultan has been discussing your recent attempts at peace. He is not quite certain where he stands on the matter yet, but I suspect any doubts he has will be eradicated by the time he sees our progress." Thus was their meeting, and the trio followed Mozenrath inside, their mounts vanishing into thin air. It was strange, housing these dangerous people in his home, but this was his focal point of power. They would not dare harm him here. The Adder lingered while her compatriots retired for the evening. Mozenrath found her in the library, leaning back in a chair, her booted feet propped unceremoniously upon the expansive oak desk. He admitted that his lip curled at the unladylike nature of a woman who had exuded naught but elegance in her disguise as an emissary—but she was a warrior first and foremost. More importantly, she had the capacity to kill without forethought or hesitation—she could afford to lose her manners.

"Enjoying your stay, Adder?" His voice was pitched low beneath the slight draft that seemed to constantly caress his empty halls, but the Adder did not turn to look at him, did not even move. Then, she responded.

"That depends on your definition of the word, sorcerer. It is hard to enjoy my stay when I am at work." By the time he reached her, he noticed she had been reading. Mozenrath had allowed them access to his library should they need anything to aid in their assignment, but it seemed the Adder was reading for leisure. He had heard their training was well-rounded, with emphasis on the mind as well as the body, but it was rare to see a woman given so much leniency. Then again, her work required a lack of scruples, and he suspected she had long-since grown cold to the underestimation of unsuspecting foes.

"Well, from the looks of it, I see you've found my library to be to your liking. His gauntleted hand came to rest on the back of the chair. He saw the slight tension in her small shoulders at the movement. A killer at all times, he silently commended her prowess. The Adder finally looked up at him, her expression cool and unassuming.

"I never took you to be the one to make conversation with your employees." She made a gesture with her gloved hand to the two Mamluks "guarding" the entrance to the library. "But I see a majority of your workforce are the strong silent types." Mozenrath did not laugh, but she found the chuckle in his eyes.

"Slaves should be seen, not heard." A sentiment he had heard Destane utter innumerable times.

"So should women."

"And you are not one to hold your own counsel. Though by right you can not be considered a true woman." The Adder shut the book with a curt _snap _and set it on the desk, crossing her legs, right knee over the left.

"And what, pray tell, is a _true _woman? And how would you know one when you saw her? You keep the company of the dead." The Adder stood, turning to face him. She was uncomfortably close, and for the first time, he took in her scent.

It was the scent of seduction…with a hint of lavender. She smelled like desire and longing, like she was a woman whose fingers curled into white-knuckled fists in silken bedsheets, who ended her nights with tangled limbs, well-earned sweat, and a broken headboard. He had to take a step back to clear his head. The Adder did not move, but her eyes tracked him like living crosshairs.

"In this realm, a woman should neither be seen, nor heard. It is why I chose you to play the role of ambassador. You defy convention." The Adder did not move, still, did not even react to his opinion, as if she had not heard him at all. The sorcerer held her gaze until finally, the Adder responded.

"And you defy all that is "good" and "just" in this realm, Mozenrath. So, as two beings who defy convention, what do you plan to do when all Seven Desert kingdoms are yours to command?" The question hung heavy in the air like a guillotine quivering on the final strip of rope. Mozenrath chuckled.

"I did not think you were the type to question what came after you completed your assignment." It was the Adder's turn to chuckle.

"I am not questioning you. Should you succeed after we are through, there may come a time when we will be assigned to kill you for someone else. Our loyalty is only to those who can pay the highest price."

"And how much coin has been shelled out for your lifestyle, Adder?"

"Coin is not always the currency of the realms, Mozenrath. You know this." He knew, but he was testing the waters, albeit they were dangerous. The Adder did not give indication as to whether she knew his intention of these seemingly pointless inquiries, but she seemed to be humoring him nonetheless.

"Then what price do you demand from me, _Viperinae_? Name it." Now, the Adder fell silent, and her expression seemed to be disappointed, as if she pitied him.

"You will know it when we are finished here, but be sure you know what it is you are willing to give up for power, sorcerer. Sometimes the currency can be…not what you expect." The Adder moved, finally, like silk in ice water, moving toward the doorway. Mozenrath had to smile. He had a feeling he knew what the _Aljenu _would ask him to give up.

But he knew that by that time there would be no reason to do so.


	5. The Gears of War

**Author's Note:** The following chapter takes place in the time between chapters three and four. Just to shed some light on some unanswered questions. Be forewarned, the following chapter contains mature themes.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_Every saint has a past, and every sinner a future._

The night was heavy with moisture, promising a rain that may very well never come, but it was rife with the piercing scent of myrrh and sandalwood, sweat and wine. The flickering flames of a dozen candles shed poor light on the room's lavish interior. Heavy shifting had rendered the crimson silk sheets tangled and disheveled, the sounds themselves overlain with the heavy gasping of a distinctively male voice. The sultan of Persis was a shrewd leader, but as with any mortal man, his appetite for vice far outweighed the obvious rattlesnake warning of danger on the horizon. It had been his appetite that had snared him in the Adder's trap to begin with, and it was his appetite she fed to assure that the foundations of Persis were weakened and her employer could fortify them how he saw fit.

It was a tedious job, lying beneath that mass of a man, his sweat slick on her skin, his breath reeking of wine and liquor and the pipe, his phallus thick and full to bursting at the sight of the naked serpent he worked so hard to please. The Adder feigned pleasure in the same way she assumed his wife most probably did, writhing when she felt it was necessary, begging and pleading to goad his pleasure, further planting the seeds of her influence in his head, while he filled her with his seed.

Useless.

When he was finished, finding release beneath his raking nails with a groan, he rolled over onto his back, breathing deep the scented and muggy air of his bedchamber while the serpent waited for him to regain his composure. Finally, the sultan spoke. To his subjects, he was well-spoken, always full of wisdom and level-headed; in the bedchamber, he was as crude as any man she had lain with.

"By Allah, Lady Maharat, any woman with a quim like yours could enslave the world! So tight, so moist, it was like…hot, wet velvet!" The sneer on her face was shared only with the darkness of the room before she rolled onto her side, noting the leaking between her thighs before she replied, her voice a rich contralto purr as she ran her fingertips over his flushed, hair-ridden chest.

"I live to serve, _sa'hib_." She said, her voice a saccharine sweet that made the randy sultan reach to grip her slender waist and pull her closer. It took everything she had not to gag from the scent of him.

"Ah, Lady Maharat…such irresistible beauty. How did one such as you come to be in the employ of so evil a man?" His question momentarily surprised the serpent, causing her brows to rise, her smile genuine.

"He needed an ambassador, and so he traveled to my homeland seeking one trained in such an occupation."

"And he picked a woman?" The Adder let the insult roll from her psyche like water from a duck's back and inclined her head to confirm his surprise.

"Well he certain is a Maverick in that sense. I suppose I shouldn't fault him…he has exquisite taste in beauty." Lewdly, the sultan cupped the lush weight of one of her breasts, thumb flicking the nipple. She gasped in genuine surprise, eliciting a laugh from the man.

"I suppose it would not be too much to ask you to stay the night would it?" His hand strayed lower, his face close to hers, lips brushing the sleek line of her jaw before she pushed him away playfully.

"Ah, _sa'hib_, as much as I would relish spending the rest of the night in your bed, I fear that it would look entirely too scandalous should I be spotted fleeing your bedchamber come the dawn. Perhaps when the treaty is secured we can continue this affair?" The promise was as empty as her smile, as cold and unyielding as the look in her eyes. The sultan's own gaze was glossed with lust—lust at the promise of uninterrupted carnal bliss—the Adder's gaze only promised death in his future.

"Very well, then, Lady Maharat. I will concede to your demands, but only because I have seen no beauty that could match yours…and no fire in the bedchamber that burned so bright." She almost laughed at that. If he found her farce in the bedchamber to burn as brightly as the flames of Ahura Mazda, she knew he would balk to see her when she too was gripped with the wild abandon of passion. Sliding low on the bed, she dropped a kiss to his flaccid phallus for effect, licking her lips before she gathered her clothes, slipping into a silken robe and breezing from his bedchamber like a whisper.

_Let me be for you, whatever you need me to be._

When she reached her quarters, the first thing she did was vomit, strip down, light her clothes on fire, and leap into her bath water to scour the taint of the sultan from her supple flesh.

"Was he that bad, _Xui Mei_?" The voice plucked at the threads that made up the world, threatening to unravel it at the seams. The Adder did not cease her feverish scrubbing before she replied.

"He was worse. I will never get used to these disgusting men and their appetites. It is a blessing that he does not have strange demands in the bedchamber else I would have slain him while he was still on top of me!" She did not look for the source of the voice, she never did these days. The _Aljenu _did not respond, but that did not mean he was gone. However, she felt that someone else was also intruding on what she thought to be a private bathing chamber. The Adder sank beneath the water, vanishing beneath the spread of pink rose petals and holding her breath. Beneath the water, she could hear much clearer than many assumed, and she heard the telltale signs of footsteps, lightweight and making a pitiable attempt at discretion. When the footsteps grew louder, she felt her strength wane as her breath begged for release, her lungs starved for oxygen. Finally, the footsteps came to rest near the tub. She waited for two heartbeats before she silently rose from the water.

Mozenrath had his back to her, even while the serpent stood in the water, the candlelight playing against the rivulets that streamed down her naked body like a sinuous lover. A small smile curved her wicked lips before she spoke.

"Oh ye of little faith," she remarked mockingly, "have you so little faith in our abilities that you must look over our shoulders at every waking moment?" Her voice licked at his sense like black flames and he laughed, turning to face her.

"I had assumed you would seduce the councilor first, not the sultan." Mozenrath remarked, keeping his eyes level with her own. He was a disciplined man, but that did not mean the licentious valkyrie who stood before him was any less tempting than she actually was. The Adder watched him, not once moving or even flinching.

"So you came all this way to tell me this, sorcerer? In the middle of a cleansing, no less? I am hard-pressed to believe you." Her arms crossed beneath her breasts, and she fixed him with a pinning stare. The sorcerer raised a brow in inquiry.

"I am coming to warn you. I seemed to have forgotten to mention a bit of a deadline. Perhaps it would be fitting to mention it now. I need Persis taken within the next two weeks…do you think you can do that for me, little _Viperinae_?" The Adder set her jaw into a tense and sleek line, gritting her teeth to bite at her indignation before she addressed him.

"If you are implying that I can not, Mozenrath, by all means, I and my associates will abort the mission immediately, and you can find someone far more _capable_ to do the job." The barb stuck, but only enough to cause the sorcerer to sneer. He knew that there were none capable of doing what they did to such a degree. They had overturned cities, entire empires laid waste by their hands, trade routes changes, crowned kings bloodied by overthrow. They were the best, and this slick-talking serpent knew it. The barb may have stuck only briefly, but it had dug deep before it had been wrenched out. Mozenrath's eyes swept over the woman with disdain.

"I need you to set up an assassination of one of the councilors." He commanded.

"Saidii? Have you no semblance of subtlety?"

"_Not _Saidii, Adder. One of the others…a less-vocal individual. He is one of the few who has the backs of the people while the others are content to live in luxury. Assassinate him." The Adder said nothing in response. She understood. She had already been eyeing Hakim since ordering the Asp and Cobra to begin planting the seeds of revolution in the hearts of the people. With the assassination of their one beacon of hope, the powderkeg of Persis would be doomed to explode. Her smile must have seemed more bloodthirsty than she meant it to be. Mozenrath applauded mockingly.

"Very good. I see you're as smart as you are promiscuous. Get to it. Report to me as soon as it is done." The sorcerer did not give the Adder time to retort before he was simply gone. Stepping out of the bath, she did not bother with wrapping herself, moving to the curtains of her balcony. Despite her seduction of the sultan, she was not exempt from the rules of this land. Her quarters was sequestered away from the prying eyes of the streets and the guards, in the woman's quarter of the palace, with her balcony overlooking the sultan's gardens. The scent of sunflowers and jasmine permeated the air, the warm, balmy breeze drying the remaining droplets on her skin.

"Does he think to command us like dogs, Saa'iqa?" The voice was deep, as if born from the earth itself, shaking the ground beneath her bare feet. The serpent did not turn, leaning against the balcony railing to cast thoughtful eyes to the stars above.

"Let him think what he will, Ibrahim," she replied coolly, "he will soon know our price if his damned arrogance has not taught him a lesson already." The bitterness on her voice was potent, tasted even on the tongues of her compatriots. Ibrahim came to stand beside his companion with a deep chortle.

"And here I thought you had skin like iron. Has the little sorcerer seeped into your veins, Saa'iqa?" The tease coaxed a smile from the woman as she considered her next words.

"He is desperate. You know we are never summoned unless the summoner is certain they can not achieve their goals on their own."

"And since when have you cared of the summoner's goals?" Saa'iqa did not respond. She did not really know why she was curious as to Mozenrath's motives and his concern over their methods. She did not know why his mocking arrogance chased her thoughts back into her head, forced her acidic retorts back down her throat to burn and simmer until she was rife with irrational fury. Ibrahim must have sensed this.

"Be wary with him, Saa'iqa. I say that as your friend, not as your comrade." She nodded in acquiescence, swallowing hard as Ibrahim leapt from the balcony to the darkness below. A second shadow joined him, and the other two _Viperinae _went to work.

_**War**__ is the statesman's __**game**__—_

_The priest's __**delight**__—_

_The lawyer's __**jest**__—_

_And the hired __**assassin's trade**__._

"Too long has the sultan sat content behind his palace walls while you scrape and scrabble like dogs over a piece of meat! Too long has he ignored your cries for reform and while you get poorer, he and his fat officials get richer. I ask you now, will you sit idly by while the sultan continues to live in decadence and debauchery, or will you _take action_?!" The voice, at once deep and commanding, had risen to a cry that stirred the people who gathered to hear him speak. Some murmured in angry approval, others dismissed him as just another noisemaker, seeking to stir the pot and incite unrest in an already unstable realm. The people were awake, the people were angry, and any moment they would be ready to take action. The Cobra spoke to them, impassioned by the supposed ideals of revolution and reform, beseeching the people to take matters into their own hands and demand justice from the sultan himself.

Later, he sat in a smoke-choked tavern amidst other revolutionaries, cloaked in the most secluded corner of the room he could find. His companion, the Asp, joined him moments later.

"The gears of war are beginning to turn, Ibrahim. I trust that Saa'iqa is doing her part, as always?" The slender wraith of a man looked like a nightmare if nightmares had been beautiful. His eyes were a bistre so warm that one could almost excuse his blood-letting occupation. He casually took up his drink and sipped it. To the casual observer, it appeared as if the two were engaged in unassuming conversation, Ibrahim in a relaxed pose, and the Asp enjoying his beverage.

"She always works diligently. She has the easiest task of all of us, as usual. If we are the turners of the gears of war, Sadique, then it is Nadja who provides the lubricant." Ibrahim grinned at the innuendo and Sadique almost echoed his humor. He lifted his cup as if to toast Ibrahim, when truly he was checking the beverage for poison. It was one of his talents, poison-scenting, being one of the triumvirate, and Ibrahim smirked.

"All these years and you still think I seek to claim your life, Sadique?" The Asp did not respond, merely sipped his drink, watching the Cobra from over the rim of his cup. The two serpents watched the late crowd without qualm or judgment, and as the hours grew later, they whisked from the place at various times, carrying with them the violent gale of change into Madina, heralding the coming of a realm-wide revolution, and a prophesized savior who would deliver the people past the gates of poverty…

…and into perdition.


	6. The Wrench

**Author's Note: **We're still "in between" chapters. As usual, read and review. I absolutely _love_ the reviews I'm getting thus far. Let me know if you've got any questions, suggestions, or if you're down to collaborate at some point (I've always wanted to do a collaboration with someone *hinthint*). Anyway, let's see how Persis fairs…and how Madina will handle Mozenrath's licentious ambassador. 

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_You've got to fight just to make it through, 'cause I will be the __**death of you**__._

"Councilor Saidii, if I were up to no good, don't you think I would have acted upon it by now?" Mozenrath had deigned it fit to watch the Adder at work now, and in the water he'd gathered from the Spring of Reflection, he was able to watch undetected even by her abilities. She was flawless, truly a work of deadly art. Councilor Saidii had cornered the woman in a secluded area of the palace, in a small dining chamber that had most likely never been used for its intended purpose—unless that purpose was more lurid than simply taking meals. The Adder had taken a casual lean against the lengthy mahogany table while Saidii hissed and spit in righteous indignation, laying accusations at her feet like offerings at an altar. With each accusation, she did little more than examine her nails, or let her gaze stray to something else in the ornate interior of the room. Mozenrath even saw her lips form an 'O' of delight when she spotted something that piqued her feminine interests.

Simply amazing.

"You are laying with the sultan, Lady Maharat…like a common whore. Do not think we are blind to your feminine wiles." At this, the Adder's eyes traced a lateral satellite path to pin the councilor beneath their oppressive weight. Mozenrath idly scratched beneath Xerxes' chin with a glove fingertip as the Adder slipped from the mask of ambassador to seductress…to black widow. Saidii, thinking he had finally hit a nerve with the woman he suspected to be exactly what she was, smiled.

"Are you blind to my…feminine wiles, councilor?" Her voice was dangerously quiet, carrying within its inflection a chill reminiscent of a winter breeze over a fresh grave. Saidii's eyes narrowed. The Adder removed herself from the table only to find that Saidii pinned her against it. For a man whose hands had never known the toils of the field, he was one who knew what it was to hold a sword. Years as a palace official had softened him, but he had lost none of that shrewd edge that only another of his ilk could detect. The Adder had roused his suspicions, but so had her unattainable self roused his passions. She ignited a passion that burned hotter and faster than that of the sultan's innocent indulgences. His was a passion with a finely honed edge, one that begged for her blood, sweat, and tears. The Adder showed little emotion as he brought himself against her in such a way as to mold her curves to the surprisingly hard lines of his body. In any assignment, always it was she who controlled the puppet show on the political stage. Always it was her hand that guided the passion of men, coaxed them until _she _was ready. Saidii sought to have her before she was ready to **take **him, and that would essentially put a snarl in her plans should he have her and be able to hold that over her head. Mozenrath watched, intrigued at how the Adder's ability to turn perfectly sensible men into lust-drunk beasts was toting the line of backfiring on the serpent. Why he was excited at the prospect of seeing her fail and her pride wounded was essentially lost on him…because if she failed, _so did he_. But he wanted to see her fail, wanted to see her gripped in absolute fury when her plans went awry—

Her abilities had begun to reach him as well, it seemed.

Saidii's lips had fastened to the curve of her neck like a lamprey, and she knew that if he did not remove himself immediately, it would leave a bruise. She pushed, he pushed back, and suddenly she was yielding. His lips devoured her own while his hands stayed her hips. Here, he would prove that because she was a _woman_, she was weak, defenseless…she was _prey_. It was that mentality that made her sick…made her angry.

He was unaware of the hiss of steel from the hidden sheath at the small of her back, unaware until the sharp pain pierce his side, the cold steel kissing his heart and setting him to choke blood, the viscous crimson frothing at the corners of his mouth. Mozenrath sat up from his lounging position. He had never seen the _Viperinae _kill before. The Adder—Nadja—was cold and emotionally dead as Saidii sank to his knees, gripping her tightly as she knelt before him.

"Have you never heard the legends of the succubus, Councilor?" Her voice had taken on a tone that was like the tolling of a bell, and in the Councilor's final moments, he would remember only that voice that chased him to whatever hell his God promised him, and that cold smile.

"The men _never _survive the encounter." With a subtle twist of her wrist, Nadja shredded the man's heart, and in a final froth of blood, he fell backwards, seeing no more. Nadja wrenched the blade free, wiped it on his clothes, sheathed it, and silently breezed out as if she were little more than a phantom. Mozenrath waved his gloved hand once and the image vanished.

"We should resume our plans post-haste, Xerxes. I've a feeling that I've bitten off more than I can chew." It was a bared moment of humility for the sorcerer, the only time he would admit to have gotten in over his head. Nadja had killed the man without feeling, even sending him off with a lesson in tangling oneself in a web of seduction. She had played her role with consummate skill, and as she left, she had not even glanced over her shoulder. Mozenrath wondered how she would cover up his death, and instead of dwelling on the enigmatic assassin, he forced the waters to reveal to him the machinations of her two seemingly less-dangerous companions.

_At odds with the __**time of wars**__ with no lords._

"I say we scale the palace walls. Every single one of us as one! Demand the ear of the sultan until he relents!"

"And how many of his bowmen will take us down before we even reach the steps leading to the iron doors? We must think logically. Lobbying for the sultan's ear has gotten us no where thus far, but neither will undue violence towards him. We must not forget that while he lives in decadence and debauchery, he has helped our kingdom prosper." The discussion was heated, but there had been no outbursts of absolute chaos yet. The Asp watched from across the room, a pipe dangling from his lips, the hemp firing up to shine against his eyes beneath the cowl of his cloak.

"And prosper it has...by our sweat and blood does he live the way he does now. He prospers from the labor of others. If Persis is so prosperous, Ahmad, then why is it I can not even afford even the cheapest of cloth for my wife to sew clothes for our son, or even fresh fruit that we may not starve? That is not prosperous, that is inhumane. I have worked as hard and honest as any of you here and have not seen a centime for my life's work. I forge the weapons that his fearsome armies use."

"But what good are the armies if most of our enemies are magical, Rahim?" A new voice chimed in. "Agrabah has dealt with magical enemies since the days Jafar was vizier at their sultan's side. Persis is not prepared for a magical enemy. If we were to…overthrow the sultan, what then? We have no one to lead us…who would we place upon the throne in his place?" It was then, Sadique gave a subtle nod. Mozenrath watched. This was how the _Viperinae _worked.

"Why not join forces with one of your magical foes?" Sadique's voice was a golden thread amidst the crude tapestry of heated conversation amongst the men who fancied themselves the implements of change. Silly mortals, they acted according to formula, knowing not that it was he who was an implement of change and they were simply along for the ride.

"And what would you know of it, strange?" Rahim snarled. "With your fine clothes and expensive pipeweed, I know not why you would speak of our suffering when you know nothing of it." Sadique let him see the ember glow of his eyes momentarily, a smile barely ghosting his lips.

"You speak a lot, for someone who has said very little of significance this night." Before Rahim could lunge at him, Ahmah bade him stay himself, if only to hear what this dark stranger had to say.

"What do you mean, join forces with one of our magical foes?" Sadique removed his pipe momentarily to chortle good-naturedly.

"I mean, Ahmad, that you should beseech one of these magical beings for aid. You wonder who you will put on the throne in light of the sultan's overthrow. I would say put someone capable and able to help all prosper without breaking your backs."

"You would have us beseech an enemy of the kingdom? Are you mad? Any one of those insane practitioners of sorcery and witchcraft would be worlds worse than our current situation." Sadique blew smoke rings idly while he listened.

"Would it? Think of how a magical ruler could aid you. You would all prosper." Sadique stood, then, feigning enthusiasm. "You, Rahim, would be able to afford not the cheapest cloth—but the finest _silks _because your ruler could provide you with anything you may need. All they would ask of you is your loyalty…the same as any sultan or sultana." While Ahmad and the others seemed to be considering the options of instating a newer and more powerful leader, Rahim was skeptical.

"It always begins thus. They ask you only for your loyalty, then they ask you to pay unreasonably high taxes to fund an operation you are not high enough in the ranks to know, next thing you know they are asking for our first-born daughters to be instated in their harems, our first-born sons to work their fields as little more than slaves, and inviting war upon our lands with their overeager ambitions. Yes, our loyalty is all they ask for…and then our deaths are overlooked when one of us asks too man—" Sadique lifted his hand.

"This has been true, for most powerful leaders in the past," he contested, further silencing a verbal riposte from Rahim, "but the enemy I speak of is not so foolish as to overstep his own limitations." There was a murmur of suspicion, but its undercurrent was rife with morbid curiosity.

"Who is this purported man who is so disciplined that he would not overstep his bounds?" Sadique smiled and resumed his pipe.

"If you must know, his ambassador is meeting with the sultan and his officials as we speak." The rumor had floated about the city for days, carrying with it a name that carried the hefty weight of their suspicions: _Mozenrath_. Sadique saw the realization dawn in their eyes, felt the cogs of their work-weary minds turn as they considered their options. The more they deliberated, the more they realized how few options there were. Sadique watched as first Ahmad, and finally Rahim conceded to listen to aught he had to say.

The gears of war wheeled on.

_The time will come when Winter will ask you __**what you were doing**__ all Summer._

When the sun began to sink towards the horizon, the sultan of Agrabah feared its color was too ominous to be discounted. He did not, however, share this with his delegates, but he did share it with someone he knew would understand.

"It is said that Mozenrath's supposed ambassador has secured a foothold in Persis and has the ear and favor of its sultan. I also hear that the ambassador is female." The sultan's voice sounded tired and aged, and Jasmine began to realize that her adventures had freed her from the monotony of a royal lifestyle, but had caused undue stress upon her father. With this new quandary looming to the East in other kingdoms, she knew that he would ask her—not in so many words—to help shoulder the mantle of defending the kingdom. Jasmine reached over to pat her father's hand reassuringly.

"We have stopped Mozenrath before. Whatever plot he has now can not be as successful as his last." The minute she'd uttered those words she knew it for a lit when her father replied.

"It is also said that his people have been stirred to rebellion. You and I know that the sultan of Persis, while a shrewd man to help his kingdom prosper, has fallen into decadence and debauchery. His people grow restless, and it is to Mozenrath's ambassador he turns for guidance and aid. Do you know what this means?" Jasmine knew. Mozenrath was systematically taking the kingdoms in a way that was so subtle that if they moved against him it could be seen as an act of war.

"Even if he is debauched, he knows as well as anyone that Mozenrath is not good company to keep." Jasmine said in earnest.

"Mozenrath, no," the sultan replied rubbing his temples, "but this ambassador is another matter entirely. Whatever she has said and done has swayed him to become aligned with Mozenrath. I fear that a larger threat will come to our kingdom and it will take more than Aladdin and his _Djini _to thwart it. This is not a plot aided by magic." He was right. Mozenrath was playing a game far older than they were—he was playing the game of thrones. Whomever he had in his employ as ambassador was taking to the task with enviable relish, and the princess feared she would be seeing this mystery woman's face before long.

"Is it only Persis he has taken?" Persis was one of their richest trading partners, and if they lost Persis, the kingdom's economy would court ruin in a way they had never thought possible. The sultan gave an exasperated sigh.

"I am uncertain, I have heard that Madina also has met with the ambassador and the sultan there is young and impressionable. Having a powerful ally such as Mozenrath appeals to his brash nature, and I am sure Mozenrath has selected only the prettiest face to represent him." Jasmine smiled inwardly. This was why men should not have been allowed to run nations. Where passions burned hot, no sentient thought ever dwelt, and she knew that while her father would not fall to the casual seductions of a temptress wearing the mask of foreign dignitary, it did not stop Mozenrath from using his newly-acquired allies against them. Magical aid or no, the _Djini _was still bound by the rules of his kind, unable to kill even if pressed to do so. If the other kingdoms rallied to Mozenrath's black banner clamoring for war at Agrabah's gates, they would need strength of arms and not magic to press them back.

But how long would they last against him? How long until Mozenrath finally won, his agents of destruction standing amidst the ruin of her beloved kingdom, and him strolling in casually to claim the final throne and thus control of all the Seven Desert kingdoms? Jasmine shuddered to think that it was a short time span that would see that horrific thought put into action. So, she would take action, with or without her father's blessing, but she would need aid to back her cause—and not just magical aid, either. Nonetheless, for good measure, she pitched the idea (still in its infancy) toward her father to glean his opinions.

"What if I were to meet with this ambassador instead of one of the men? If the ambassador is indeed a woman, then would it not help to have a woman meet with her in the event that she attempts to use her wiles to gain your favor? If this plot of Mozenrath's is to succeed, it is only because he suspects that only men will be in power, and thus far that has proven true." It was why Mozenrath had not sent the ambassador to Agrabah first. Jasmine was an agent of good sense, and the sultan considered her words.

"And what if this ambassador proves to be dangerous? It would leave you unprotected, and you know I can not allow that." Jasmine shook her head, holding up her hands.

"I know, I know. I wish to bring an armed escort with me, and you know I am capable of defending myself." She had, after all, been considered with honors an Amazon, had singlehandedly toppled Agrabah when she had taken scent of the Rose of Forgetfulness, and had gone toe-to-toe with some of the most fearsome enemies in the land. She was quite confident she could handle herself. To her surprise, her father conceded.

"But be wary, Jasmine. Take that magic carpet with you. The moment you sense you have been overcome, I want you back home immediately." Jasmine smiled, leaning over to kiss her father on the cheek. Now, she had to tell Aladdin, but she did not want him following her. This was something she knew needed to be done alone. The men of the realms had been making mistakes thus far, and she'd have to defeat this new enemy in the game of thrones using a woman's intuition and wit as oppose to a man's overbearing arrogance and brute strength. Aladdin lacked the subtlety necessary to fight this battle, but she would let the _Djini _know in the event she did not make it back in time. Leaving Agrabah on her own was a rare occurrence, but her resolve overpowered any doubts that threatened to well in her mind like a spring coming to the surface. Genie had been reluctant to let her go, and carpet, although incapable of communication beyond a few simplistic gestures, gave its word to oversee her deeds in Madina.

_Strength is just an accident arising from another's __**weakness**__._

"I never took you to be one for this game, Mozenrath." Nadja's voice was a sentient coil around his senses, coaxing reactions for him that years of discipline under Destane's side worked to suppress. Now, as he stood overlooking the vast Land of the Black Sand, the licentious Nubian stood in the archway leading back inside one of the many personal studies. He smiled, looking over his shoulder.

"It is why we will win, Adder," even after spying upon her he could not say her name. It was far too personal, and it tasted too thick and sweet on his tongue to be comfortable. "It is why they will fall, and Agrabah will crumble at my feet. They do not expect me to play this game which is precisely why I am." The Adder had not made a move to come and stand by his side just yet, instead, her eyes watching his back, noting the lock of black hair that coiled at his temple beneath the headdress. She briefly wondered how long it was, if it would weave through her fingers like fine-spun black silk, shimmer in candlelight like a river of ink. She stopped wondering, forcing herself to sneer at the thought before she spoke again.

"A Compatabilist would say that your actions could be predicted simply because you know that they will be," Mozenrath's brows rose and he turned to face her.

"Assassin, seductress, ambassador, _and _philosopher? How are you not married?" Nadja echoed his cold smile with one of her own before she continued.

"You know your enemies expect a certain behavior from you. They expect you to use magic to sway them to your side…or beneath you." Mozenrath nodded, allowing her to continue. "What if one of these enemies predicted that because you know they expected you to act a certain way, that you would do so just to thwart them, and thus they would take action accordingly?" Her question hung in the air like a guillotine poised to fall as the last shred of rope threatened to snap beneath the weight. Mozenrath grinned.

"It is one of the benefits of having you and your merry band in my employ. While they expect _me _to behave a certain way, they do not know what to expect of you all. Or should I say, you, as they are not even aware of the other two." Nadja smiled. He was beginning to learn the benefits of loosing snakes upon the world, but how would he put them back when the deed was done? She did not share this thought with him, of course, but the sorcerer had closed some of the distance between them.

"If I were a lesser man, I'd say you were trying to seduce me, Adder." His voice was like cool mint, his breath warm when it touched her skin. Nadja inclined her chin a bit, her eyes swallowing what little light was allowed to breach the umbra of the balcony.

"Were I a lesser woman, Mozenrath, I'd be on my knees by now. But we are nothing less than what we are…and it would be highly unprofessional to even court the idea of bedding one's employer, no?" Mozenrath smiled. Clever bitch. So the games continued and she left him to his thoughts, returning to Persis to tie up loose ends and set the gears of war in Madina to turning. The machine would be oiled and geared by the time she reached Agrabah's gates, but the Adder was unaware of the newest piece that had come into play on the board.


	7. The Serpent's Kiss

**Author's Note:** We're back on track. Meaning, we're not in between chapters anymore. Let's see how the players are handling the game-board. It's about to get shaken up, so be wary. This chapter's inspiration was believe it or not, I was listening to the _Aladdin _movie soundtrack during the last few bits of the chapter. For those who own a copy (legally or no), I was listening to the track "Marketplace" when writing the dialogue between Jasmine and Nadja, and the "Arabian Nights" track for the final scene at the end of the chapter. I even busted out a few other classic Disney albums iTunes no longer offers in its U.S. stores (why do they do that, I wonder). There may or may not be mature themes ahead, so just in case, don't say I didn't warn you. .;

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

'_Cause you're __**my**__ fella my guy._

_Hand me your stella and __**fly**__._

_By the time I'm out the door, you __**tear men down**__ like Roger Moore._

"There is to be no undue violence unless my life is truly threatened, are we clear on this?" Jasmine's voice was stern for one still so young and new to the position of absolute authority. Veiled and garbed in her best, she had taken to having herself formally introduced to the young sultan of Madina, Malikai, who gladly welcomed her. He was notorious for his gentle nature, welcoming even his enemies into his kingdom like a bridegroom. It was admittedly a foolish gesture, but his generosity extended to his people as well. If Jasmine's assumptions were correct, the ambassador would have trouble stirring the pot of civil unrest here unless she was not working alone.

"Princess Jasmine! Welcome, welcome!" Dastan, the sovereign prince of the nation, had shirked his formalities to greet the princess himself. They had played together as children, after all, and what was a visit between friends dressed up as a meeting between dignitaries? Jasmine smiled from behind the gossamer veil, but there was a sadness in her eyes. She could see the dark circles beneath Dastan's dark eyes. He had been using opium, no doubt as a result of his adventurous nature. Dastan still had sense enough not to wrap his arms around her in the public's eye, and as such he would have her escorted to the women's quarter of his palace.

"Jasmine there is someone I'm dying for you to meet!" Dastan's voice was rife with excitement as he pulled Jasmine along, her elite escort of the finest guards her father could contract marching in tow. It was awkward, really, and the princess found it disconcerting that while her palace halls were usually void of anyone save servants, Dastan's own mirrored his demeanor—chaotic and unfocused. There were servants bustling everywhere, guards occasionally marching here and there…it was absolute chaos.

"Dastan," she said, but the man interrupted her when he suddenly let out a raucous cry of delight.

"Ah! There she is!" Jasmine, distracted by the ringing in her ears, did not see who he was talking about. Now, as she focused, she was forced to lift her veil. The woman was swathed in all black, a form-fitting number that slid covetously over her curves like the hands of some insidious lover, the back dipping so low as to expose the dimples at the base of her spine. Her hair was a black so true that it was reminiscent of sable in the dark, while her eyes seemed to absorb the light, her full mouth slightly upturned in a smile that was at once arrogant and unassuming. Her skin was a rich, illustrious brown, suffused with a warm and heady glow that said she too was a woman born of a desert land. When she moved, it was akin to poetry, a spider's delicate weave of sensuality that she comfortably exuded like some exotic perfume. Jasmine, who had been cherished as a pearl of beauty across the land—gaped for a moment.

"Princess, I'd like you to meet Lady Nadja Maharat. She is visiting us as Mozenrath's ambassador, as I'm sure you've heard by now. She's quite the diplomat. Lady Maharat, this is Princess Jasmine of Agrabah…she's full of fun stories—some including your sovereign, if I'm not mistaken." Jasmine, upon hearing Mozenrath's name, was shaken from whatever wordless bespellment the woman's appearance had noosed about her psyche. Keeping her features schooled to calm, she inclined her head with a gracious smile.

"So this is the much-discussed ambassador. I am sure she is quite the diplomat to have won over the sultan of Persis on Mozenrath's behalf." It was a slight barb meant to sting the woman, testing the waters and fierce walls for a sign of weakness. There had to be a hairline fracture in this veritable dam of intrigue—there always was no matter how shrewd a villain Mozenrath was. Lady Maharat simply smiled all the wider.

"I will own, it is not easy speaking on behalf of one of the most hated men in the Seven Desert kingdoms, but it always helps to let one see that there are benefits to be had once one has the…_proper _perspective." Jasmine almost made a remark not befitting a visiting royal when Dastan stepped between the two women.

"Now, Jasmine, I'll see to it that your chambers are ready. We're doing a bit of renovating at the moment so excuse the muss and clutter for the time being. Now, the servants are here at your beck and call, as if I should have anything to say. Lady Maharat and I have much to discuss. No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid." Dastan stood beside the darkling woman, leaving Jasmine and her guards. As the two women passed, she saw the look of sly curiosity on her dark face.

"I look forward to hearing you regale me with tales of your adventures, Princess." It was a gracious farewell, but Jasmine could only hear the snarling words of a potential rival. _Perhaps when you grow up a little, you too may have important business to discuss with sultans of the lands._ That was what she heard, and as such, she knew that this woman was her enemy.

"Princess?" A servant girl was kneeling on the floor, her forehead pressed to the ground at Jasmine's feet. Adjusting her veil to cast back over her face, she looked down, calming some as the girl waited to escort her to her guest chambers for the evening.

"I'm ready." She said tersely, looking towards the corridor Dastan and Nadja had vanished into. She could still smell the woman's perfume. But where a man would be inebriated, courting the line of lust, she was only irritated, driven to fury.

_I __**cheated**__ myself…like I _knew_ I __**would**__._

"It is my belief that the sultan of Madina has taken to the pipe, and if you ask me, I don't think at this point he was ever fit to be sultan. With opium clouding his mind, he will soon lose whatever grip he had on the reins of the kingdom." Sadique's serpentine voice was inflectionless, as conversational as the weather, while he smoked his pipe. The _Viperinae _were sweeping across the Seven Deserts like a secret cancer, bringing with them the scent of change. Words began to be murmured amongst the common folk of Madina; words like _reform _and _revolution _and once, even _coup_. Sadique did little more than breathe the words from his smoke tainted mouth and let them saturate into the minds of men who had toiled their entire lives while their sovereign smoked opium, threw fêtes, and openly welcomed friend and enemy alike in his alls. But one thing the sultan was no fool about was his diplomacy. While he was decadent and flighty in nature, he did not lack for friends, and his lands were permeated with magically imbued stone that allowed for machinery to run without the aid of man. He was rich and prosperous from his mines, and as such, the other sultans managed to overlook his unconventional nature.

"I hear he also wishes to court the lady ambassador Mozenrath has sent to do his bidding." Sadique stole a glance to Ibrahim who, had idly mentioned that while examining an unraveled scroll while he sipped his drink. Ibrahim did not look up from his scroll, even while a murmur of indignation filtered in the small cloister of men who discussed politics and the state of their realm.

"You hear much, stranger. But why would Dastan wish to court that woman?" Sadique spoke on Nadja's behalf, then.

"I hear her beauty is likened to a star amongst gems, that she would make Aphrodite weep from envy. I hear she has eyes like bistre at midnight, and hair that flows like a black river of stars." This merited a laugh from the other men.

"Seems we've a smitten poet on our hands, men. Have you even seen the woman to know all this for yourself?" Sadique, now christened as the Smitten Poet of Madina, smiled and scooted his chair up a bit to crowd the men as if to regale them with a tale of his rare glimpse of the ambassador.

"I had wandered into the palace gardens to pluck a flower for a fair lady whose favor I wished when I saw her." He saw from his peripheral vision the slight upturn of Ibrahim's smile of exasperation. "She was standing on her balcony, as naked as you and I upon birth!" The men gasped with exclamations of _you lie_ which Sadique promptly shushed.

"It gets better, friends. While this lady of the Black Sand was basking like a veritable nymph in the moonlight, she was assailed by a lover, taken right there on the balcony railing. Rest assured, I had forgotten all about plucking a flower and watched one bloom not mere feet above me." It was a lie, of course, but not completely farfetched. Nadja's passions took her to any location, including open-air balconies.

"I bet you did forget, one hand gripping the flower, the other in your breeches." Sadique shot the man a good-natured glare before continuing his tale.

"I only caught a glimpse of his face, but I believe it is safe to say it was the sultan himself who plowed her garden. So, yes, I do believe he is courting the lady."

"It is a _lie_." Sadqiue raised his hands.

"Believe me or no, I know what it is I saw. Irrespective, the Lady of the Black Sand is beauty unparalleled. Even the princess of Agrabah looks like a simple lily next to the black rose of her countenance." Sadique threw up his hands. "_Wallahi _if I ever had the chance I too would court her." He was discounted by murmurs of skepticism and the like, and the conversation was soon steered toward politics once more.

_I told you I was __**trouble**__. You know that __**I'm no good**__._

"What did she go to Madina for? Did she say?" Aladdin had been born and bred to the streets of Agrabah. He had courted Agrabah's most precious treasure in an adventure that poets still spoke of with a reverence better-suited to myth than the actual story. He had witnessed the Princess of Agrabah at her most cunning and had learned long ago never to underestimate the agile mind which lay with a serpent's subtlety behind her large, brown eyes. Genie, who was the only individual aside from the sultan privy to Jasmine's motives, literally zipped his mouth shut with a shrug of his shoulders, muffled sounds coming from behind the sealed mouth. Aladdin's brows furrowed and he reached up to grab the zipper, loosing the Genie's tongue into rapid-fire coherent words.

"She said she was getting a bad feeling with Mozenrath's new ambassador breezing from kingdom to kingdom making nice with the other sultans without some sort of ulterior motive. Then she told her pops that she'd be visiting Madina just to scope out the situation—not to take action mind you!—and so she told me instead of you because she knew you'd come after her and probably do something brash and uncouth and blow her cover." When the words finally grinded to a halt, Aladdin was in a moment of suspended disbelief. Jasmine had embarked on a potentially lethal self-imposed mission and had not even trusted him enough to let her know she had left the palace? She had been doing such things a great deal lately, and granted he had the utmost confidence in her ability to defend herself and save Agrabah time and again, but this was Mozenrath. Mozenrath was shrewd, cunning, dangerous, and ruthless. He would not be swayed by a pretty face, and alone, without the aid of Genie or himself, she would have no one to have her back should whatever plan she had go awry.

"And she took Carpet with her?" Aladdin's voice was controlled, sounding like its usual innocent self. After five long years courting the company of Jasmine and his other sundry assortment of companions, he had lost none of his boyish charm. Jasmine had blossomed to full beauty and their wedding was approaching rapidly. He didn't know why she'd choose now to go flying off on another adventure when she was supposed to be here getting ready to defend her kingdom from her throne.

"Genie, we're gonna make a quick trip." Genie's shape changed into a large blue question mark which occasionally flashed neon, before he resumed his original form, complete with legs.

"To Madina? Jasmine's not gonna be too happy to see us shadowing her. I mean, she'll be holed up in the palace, not traipsing in the streets."

"And I'm a street rat, remember? _I'll _be the one doing the traipsing, and you can keep an eye on her while I do some snooping of my own. If Mozenrath's playing politics, I'm pretty sure there's some magical plot at the bottom of it all that we're all overlooking. No way the other sultans would line up with him just because there's a little trouble in the streets." Genie assumed a rather strang

And miles away, Persis was beginning to burn as angry citizens began to take action, clamoring for justice. In his desperation, the sultan beseeched his newest ally, Mozenrath, to help quell the rebellion.

Thus did Mozenrath secure Persis as his first puppet kingdom, while Medina spiraled to a smoke-hazed ruin, guided by the unseen hands of the _Viperinae_.

_Yeah these horns __**know red**__. And this bull knows best not to chase __**that scarlet cape**__._

The corridors were quiet, now, in the late hours, and Jasmine had accepted an invitation to a small banquet at which the Lady Maharat was the guest of honor. Jasmine was to sit at Dastan's left, while Nadja sat to his right.

"It is my lot in life to be surrounded by beauty, and I hope to continue this habit long into my old age." Jasmine blushed, genuinely complimented while the ambassador merely smiled.

"He has been at it all night, the charmer," she said jovially, "he will shower you with compliments and leave you with an ego so large as to not fit through the doorway." Jasmine enamored the woman a tight smile. Nadja offered a cloth-wrapped bundle to the princess with a modest bow.

"In my homeland, it is customary for me to bestow a gift to a visiting sovereign." She said gently, black tendrils of hair slithering across her silk-clad shoulders beneath the black veil atop her head. Her eyes were downcast respectfully, and Jasmine accepted the gift with a modest murmur of thanks. Dastan watched the exchange with opium-laced vision.

"Are you not a visitor to the land as well, Lady Maharat?" Jasmine asked and Nadja smiled.

"Visitor, yes. Sovereign? Not so much. I am afraid that while Mozenrath is new to diplomacy, he is not interested in sharing his throne with another just yet." Jasmine did not open the gift just yet, hiding it just out of sight while the banquet continued. There were dancers, pygmy acrobats, and fire dancers from lands across the sea. Dastan had a veritable menagerie of entertainment lined up for the evening, and when the wine began to saturate, Jasmine having taken no sips from her own proffered cup, she took her leave shortly after Nadja announced she would retire for the night. Outside in the corridor, with the music and scent of opium now a muffled dream beyond the closed doors, Jasmine began to navigate back to her room, carrying with her the small bundle Nadja had given her.

"So what brings you to Madina, princess?" The voice filtered from the still shadows of the corridor, warm and ensconcing her in a blanket of false security. Jasmine stopped momentarily startled as the ambassador of the Black Sand Kingdom stepped from the shadows, looking every bit as darkly beautiful as she had when they first met. Nadja stood at eye level with the princess, though she was built more like she walked the fine line betwixt killer and dancer than a palace official. Jasmine found herself innately curious as to the woman's origins and how she came to be in Mozenrath's employ.

"Just visiting Dastan. He is an old friend of mine," when she realized that was too vague an answer she added, "that and I was curious as to all this buzz about you and your diplomatic skills. There are poems sung about you already, you know." Nadja moved, and Jasmine saw that at once she seemed to be of the shadows and separate from them. The dim torch lights burned high over head, casting the woman's sharply defined features in a lurid juxtaposition of light and dark, a veritable chiaroscuro-made-flesh. The two women examined one another, Nadja wearing a small painted on with an icicle dipped in paint, and Jasmine caught between smiling and frowning.

"Do they, now?" Nadja's voice was a purr of amusement, and Jasmine swore she could feel flames licking at the syllables. The ambassador closed the distance between them to arm's length. "And what do these poems say about me?" Jasmine in truth had been bluffing when she said there were poems sung about the Threat who stood before her. There was a brief moment before Jasmine spoke, spinning what she would expect a poet to say about a woman like Nadja Maharat.

"They say one look from you had the sultan of Madina smitten and wishing to court you. They say the sultan of Persis was so taken by your beauty he gave you lands that were nearly as large as his kingdom, and that the sultan and sultana of Nushif had given you vineyards as a token of their blessing and favor—all because you came pleading for clemency on Mozenrath's behalf. They believed you in love with your sovereign, because for one to lose all sense to plead with a man that evil, it must be the only culprit." The more she spoke, the more Jasmine seemed inclined to believe that these sorts of embellishments lacquered the woman's name like a fine, glass polish. Nadja took this all in with an amusement better-suited to a lounging jungle cat than a woman. Jasmine stopped speaking when she realized Nadja was closer.

"And what do you believe, Princess?" Jasmine kept her senses, even when she took one whiff of the woman's natural scent, a musk that was as subtle as her mind.

"I think it's all foolishness. I think you're just a pretty face Mozenrath has chosen to do his bidding." She saw it, the tense set of the woman's jaw at the inadvertently caustic barb, and the lightning flash of fury in her eyes. Nadja drew back.

"Who better to do a job of diplomacy than a woman experienced in such a field? Has your father ever sent you to negotiate a treaty in his stead? After all, you too are a pretty face…though I suspect no man would dare send you to do his bidding." It was a velvet slap if ever there was one and Jasmine pursed her lips. She did not retort right away, letting the Lady of the Black Sand take this round. There would be other times to test her mettle against the older woman.

"It's late, and I'm sure you've got meetings on the morrow. Perhaps we can speak when you are not pressed for business?" Nadja inclined her head in accord.

"Very well, princess. I shall see you anon, then." And thus was Lady Maharat, who moved like a living shadow, and Jasmine found her way back to her bedchamber, in time to notice something was out of place. For a moment, as she quietly shut her bedroom doors behind her, she smirked. She knew what it was. There was a comb on her bedside table, and it was a very distinct shade of blue.

"Alright, I know you're here, Genie. You can come out, now." The comb shook on the table, rattling against the wood before with a sibilant _pop _Genie simply burst into view, meeting Jasmine's disapproving gaze with a bashful stare.

"He made me do it, Jas, I didn't want to spill the beans," at this, he simply transformed into a can of baked beans, spilling onto the floor at her feet. She stepped back as Genie's eyes blinked up at her, before he took his own shape once more. "But he wanted to be here as back-up in case things went sour." At this he became a jug of soured milk, a green smoke exuding from his body. He took his shape again when Jasmine held up her hands, exasperated. She had expected this, but in actuality, she was glad that Aladdin had not come crashing in announcing he was here to save her. Five years had seen them both matured in ways both had learned to cope with. Gone would be the days of the rash youth in their teens, and onto the less rash youth of their twenties. Even so, she was still cross that he had immediately rushed to her aid when there was not even trouble to be had.

"Where is he now?" Almost as if on cue, she heard a loud and piercing _psst_ from the balcony. Shooting Genie a questioning look, she made her way past the balcony curtains. It was a call from their past, to see him waiting on the balcony railing like that, like a dream within a dream, coming to sweep her off her feet into the diamond-studded sky once again. Carpet was with him, and Jasmine could not help but find an easy smile as Aladdin hopped down, rushing to take his love in his arms. They shared a brief kiss before Aladdin began to speak.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Madina? I could have come with you." He whispered fiercely. Jasmine pressed her fingers to his lips lovingly.

"Aladdin, if my suspicions are correct, and Mozenrath knew you were here, don't you think he'd change his plans to throw us off his scent? I came here because I know that despite our past transgressions, he will underestimate me. Just as you've just done." She didn't mean to let that out, and Aladdin drew back, obviously hurt.

"I didn't think worrying about you constituted underestimation, Jasmine," he said bitterly. "I just wanted to be here in case you needed me. I won't even be in the palace. Genie will."

"And Genie can't be here either. If this Nadja is indeed here as his spy and emissary, then she must see that I am without any defense save a mortal escort. Even Carpet is here just in case I need a quick getaway. Aladdin, I'm fine. So far, I suspect Nadja is a lot more sinister than she lets on. I came here because I know that she's probably been seducing her way across the land. What I don't know is how she manages to spark rebellion in the people to distract the sultans while she pushes them to seek Mozenrath for aid."

"So I'll keep my ear to the ground. You forget I'm a street rat, Jasmine," Jasmine pursed her lips. She did not like that word, she never had, even when he used it jokingly. "I'm sure if the people are rebelling, then the source has to come from someone amongst them. Nadja may be a damn good diplomat, but she can't be working alone on this one. Mozenrath had to have sent help."

"Yeah, I'm sure his dead men circus is really sparking revolution in the streets." Iago's mocking retort cut the tension as the parrot fluttered to a perch on Aladdin's shoulder. Abu crawled to crest over the other. Jasmine smiled. It was good to have the entire gang at her back, but she needed them out of the palace and in the streets listening for the sounds of revolution in case they could put the spark out before it ignited the city beyond the point of saving.

_As the __**captive **__entertainer, always __**blood to shed**__._

_To __**escape**__ crowds that pay…to see Taurus __**kill the tamer**__._

"You never told me the Princess of Agrabah was a _shrew_, Mozenrath." The Adder was lounging in an ornate, throne-like chair, one bare foot propped up on a coffee table fashioned with utmost blasphemy from a pair of mosque doors, the other resting flat on the floor. Garbed in nothing but a black silk robe and a curtain of wavy, black hair, she looked fresh-tumbled by a god of lust. She was watching the oval mirror in front of her, and Mozenrath stood, regarding the Adder with a cool amusement, ignoring the way the silk robe bared her smooth, brown legs, the way it fell between her spread thighs like a barricade to prying eyes, slithered just off her shoulder to reveal a curve of a breast beneath the curtain of black hair. Her lips were stained with grape juice, and she held a bundle in her hands, one of the grapes grazing her mouth.

She was deliberately putting on this show for his benefit.

"Well I may have forgotten to mention that. How fares Dastan?" Nadja gave a rather droll shrug of her shoulders, the silk further slithering down. Mozenrath inadvertently caught sight of a nipple before she pulled the robe back up. She was promiscuous and shameless about her promiscuity, but at the same time, she retained a sense of charm and class that most women lacked when they lay with a man for their own gain. The more he saw the Adder at work, sinking her fangs into the heated veins of the realms to kill them with her slow and painful poison, the more he felt a foreign poison in his own veins when he saw her laughing on the arm of a sultan, engaged in flirtatious persiflage with a man less than worthy, or arresting a room full of important officials with her diplomatic presence. He could not put a name to this feeling, but more importantly, he did not _wish to_. Nadja answered at last.

"He is high from opium, drunk from the finest wines imported from the vineyards of Nushif, which was easier to take than Persis, mind you. He says that he has always admired your resilience, and the fact that you rule a land of darkness and yet seek to make alliance with lands burned by the sun."

"The sun sets eventually, Adder." Mozenrath said quietly, trying to hide the rough edge that infected his voice at the side of her.

"As I told him. And when the likes of Mirage or Mechanicles seek to batter at their walls and gates, tormenting the people, to whom will they turn? Agrabah has but a simple _Djini_, a street rat, and a few misfits to defend its own walls, how do they expect to protect _all _the Seven Deserts? So you see, they _do_ need you, whether they are willing to admit it or not." Mozenrath waved his hand dismissively.

"You can drop the act now, Adder. I know very well that they need me to protect them, need me for my power." Nadja set the grapes down.

"It was not an act."

Silence reigned like a heavy fog between them as the two stared one another down. Then, in an uncharacteristic display of curiosity, Mozenrath stepped through the mirror, going from corporeal, to tangible. Almost immediately the Adder was assaulted by that subtle musk that always clung to him. The scent of knowledge, the scent of scholar, the scent of _power_. His gloved fingertips had found their way beneath her chin, tilting her face up to look up at him, to emphasize a point he neither vocalized nor acted upon. Knowing this goaded her anger, he knew what she would do next, and the minute he saw the flash of steel he acted. A blue wall of force sent the Nubian sprawling to the floor, the serrated short sword clattering on the floor. Almost immediately she had drawn another blade, and Mozenrath began to understand why she was so dangerous. Where she was keeping these edge weapons, he did not know, and yet…he wanted to find out. It would not be the first time magic and steel had been pitted against one another but Nadja's snarl said she would not let him escape back to his kingdom unscathed.

"You _men_, always under the delusion that it is _you _who makes the world turn daily. It is the women who hold the true power. Had you sent a man in my stead you would still be trying to win over Persis!" She spat, and the Adder covered the gap with all the speed her moniker afforded her and Mozenrath scarcely had time to cast a defensive spell that saw a crystallized shield of blue, her sword piercing it but inches from his face, the bubble crystallizing around the blade. She attempted to wrench it free, and with a simple thought the bubble extended outward to send her backward, leaving him to grip the blade's leather-wrapped hilt in his gloved hand. Nadja stood, but she did not have a blade in her hand. Mozenrath examined the weapon briefly before tossing it aside and closing the distance between them, pinning her between himself and the wall.

"And so I have found a nerve suitable for striking!" Mozenrath veritably crowed, albeit none would hear it. "Why _do_ you hate men so much, Adder? Did a man scorn you? Did you find some man who was not a slave to your charms? Did he make you feel **unwanted**, _Nadja_?" The minute he addressed her by name both knew what it meant. The assignment had crossed the boundaries that both had worked so hard to avoid. Both had steered clear of the burgeoning attraction that inevitably pulled them together and as his mouth hovered but a breath from her parted lips, Nadja responded.

"He had no _right_." Mozenrath did not need to hear anymore to know what she meant. She did not shed tears, but there was a deep-seated rage—an untapped fury—that ran along the underbelly of her words like a snake slithering on the duplicitous scales of its stomach. Mozenrath silenced her when his lips lay claim to her own. The kiss burned like a white-hot flash of lightning—a flash that spread, and spread, and _stayed_. Nadja felt his lips, like a drop of cool water upon a flame, setting her to sizzle and crackle in retaliation. Mozenrath felt her respond, like a living flame that threatened to consume and burn him until naught was left but ash and tinder as proof of his existence. When the heat and cold met, steam hissed between them until he pulled away first.

"Complete your task quickly. All that will be left after this is Agrabah. I will keep the princess distracted. I want this task over and done with by the end of the week, Adder." He wanted to tell her it was because he wanted to continue this when she was less-distracted by her job and more focused on _him_, but that was not his nature. Mozenrath never gave her the time to reply as usual, vanishing back into the mirror.

Nadja did not pursue, instead licking her kiss-swollen lips, tasting both the remnants of the grapes and _him _upon them. From that moment, she knew he had marked her and that no matter how many men she lay with, that he would return to finish what both had inevitably started from the moment she first graced him with a smile, the moment he first put his hands on her skin. She had heard the tolling bell of desire in his voice, and as she sank to the floor, she allowed herself a victorious smirk.

_And so he is a man, after all_.


	8. The Devil You Know

**Author's Note: **For future reference, I do use an Arabic phrase in here (not Arabic, but Hause—my native language, which is a mixture of Arabic and the indigenous language of the region). _Wallahi _means in layman's terms 'I swear to God'. So when you see one of the _Viperinae _use it, it's sort of an exasperated exclamation. Slight gore ahead.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_I declare __**war on the world**__; war in outer space._

_I declare war in a nutshell; war __**all over the place**__._

_I __**declare war**__ on every government; war __**against all odds**__._

_I declare war on your inner sanctum; on your __**bloodthirsty**__** gods**__._

It was a week before Jasmine had the proof she needed that Mozenrath was up to no good. Dastan had invited the two women to yet another fête, and as usual, Jasmine sat at his left, Nadja at his right, but tonight the tension betwixt the two women was clear. It showed in the casual barbs they cast in each others' general directions with the young sultan caught in between, oblivious to the tension while the pungent blue smoke of opium hazed the room. Jasmine, finding this behavior disgusting that her friend had fallen so far from his intended grace, excused her self first this time. She stalked from the room to breathe the fresh air from her balcony. Aladdin was waiting, pacing insistently. Relieved to see a familiar face rather than be surrounded by false friends and true enemies, she beseeched him from word on the streets. Aladdin's expression did not promise anything good.

"The good news is, we were right: Nadja definitely isn't working alone." Aladdin said, Genie coming to float next to him, garbed as Sherlock Holmes. He spoke before Aladdin had the chance to break the bad news.

"The bad news is: we don't know who they are. Whoever they are, they are subtle, they are sneaky, they are like…_snakes_." Genie took the shape of Jafar's once-fearsome cobra form, albeit it was dumbed down, and far less sinister than their deceased foe had been. Jasmine crossed her arms.

"Well, snakes or no, we have to find them. Dastan refuses to even hear me out that he could be making a big mistake with this Nadja woman. She's playing him for a fool and I know it. I just need to catch her in the act. She must be relaying information to Mozenrath somehow." Aladdin scratched his head.

"Maybe you should send Big Blue there in to spy on the little lady," Iago suggested dryly, indicating Genie, who had taken the form of a small and overeager schoolboy at a desk, waving his hand in the air yelling, "Oh! Oh! Pick me! Pick me!"

Jasmine sighed. She didn't want to blow her cover in the event she may have been wrong, but it was only practical.

"Alright, Genie. But I need you to be _discreet._ We don't want to provoke this woman. She's more dangerous than she lets on." Jasmine's voice was quiet toward the end of that sentence. She remembered how close Nadja was, the lazy serpent's smile the woman wore, the way she smelled as if seduction were one of her daily discourses. She could not let this woman get the best of her, and thus she would employ every resource at her disposal. Aladdin took her arm gently, pulling her close and causing Iago to flutter from his shoulder and the rest of the gang were left on the balcony and Jasmine and Aladdin retreated back inside to speak privately.

"It's worse than that, isn't it?" He asked, and Jasmine nodded.

"Dastan's opium addiction grows each day, and Nadja whispers sweet nothings in his ear. I have no influence here, Aladdin. I thought that if a woman was sent to do what is normally a man's job…_against _a woman, that I'd have a chance. She's clever, and she's covering her tracks extremely well." This time, it was Aladdin who pressed her fingers to her lips, quelling her wellspring of shortcomings with a laugh.

"That's why you've got us to back you up, Jasmine. I mean, you don't have to do this alone. We've always taken down Mozenrath as a team, and just because he's changed his methods, doesn't mean he still can't be defeated the same way. We'll stop him tonight. I'm going to try and find out who's helping Nadja down below. You try and keep her in Madina long enough until I come up with anything—and remember, Genie is here if you need protection." The couple looked back to see the silhouette of Genie, Carpet, Iago, and Abu, and in that image Jasmine found the comfort and confidence booster she needed after only a week in the snake pit of political intrigue. Aladdin pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Let's get to work." He said with that boyish smile she loved so much, and as they parted with a lingering kiss, Jasmine sighed, hearing the telltale signs of Carpet whisking him away from her into the night. Genie came forward, sensing the woman's discontent.

"Hey Jas," he spoke gently, losing his silliness for a moment to comfort her, "we'll send that no-good Mozenrath and his pretty ambassador packing. We've always pulled through before. In the end, it's just Mozenrath, right?" Jasmine enamored him a sad smile.

_That's what I'm afraid of_.

_He's __**imagining**__ that he's a tiny waterbead rolling off her bending knee._

"So we are in accord, then? I expect that you seek no payment for this particular assignment, seeing as how this is what you all have wanted." Mozenrath's voice was rife with a boredom that suited his lounge on his throne well enough. The writhing trio of shadows laughed a sound that was impish and riddled with bloodthirsty delight. When they stood, he still could not make out their barely humanoid shapes. It was said the _Immortalis_ held loyalty to none save their god, but with this offer, Mozenrath had secured both loyalty and favor. While the _Viperinae _worked to weaken the Arabian kingdoms from Persis to Agrabah, the _Immortalis _would sweep in to clean up the mess—mainly to kill the _Viperinae _when they were no longer useful. Mozenrath hated loose ends the same as any diabolical villain, but he could not risk them turning to sink their pernicious fangs into him when someone paid them to do so—and so he brought in their rivals as insurance. He could very well find a way to destroy both groups, but he was betting they would kill one another and save him the trouble of researching the proper spells necessary to accomplish such a feat. It would be a pity, to see the Adder dead, but she was the biggest liability of them all, proclaiming from the start that she would have no qualm or moral issues with betraying him should someone find a means to pay her and her compatriots much higher than he intended to. He remembered briefly the imprint of her lips on his, so hot and sweet, as if the very sun had been made into some sort of sweet liquid and licked hotly as his mouth eagerly. He remembered how she felt in his arms, like an instrument that begged him to play beautiful music upon her. Passion had nearly gotten the best of him that evening, but he would no more bed a serpent than he would bed Mirage or Saleen. The sorcerer looked up when the writhing mass of shadows had vanished. However they completed their task, he cared not, so long as his path to ultimate conquest remained free of blockade. Only when the _Immortalis _had vanished, taking with them their bloodthirsty laughter, did Xerxes slither from behind the high-backed throne to look fearfully where the trio of living shadows once stood.

"Master sure he want them gone?" Despite his lack of proper speech, Mozenrath understood his familiar better than any. He knew what Xerxes spoke of.

"Not to worry. I know exactly what I'm doing. The sooner this mess is cleaned up, the sooner I will be seated upon Agrabah's throne." Leaping from his seat, the slender sorcerer retreated to his laboratory to examine the mystical waters, if only to spy upon Nadja. Why he chose to spy upon her was lost on him, but he was immediately intrigued when he found Jasmine in lieu of the licentious serpent. Jasmine was speaking to that troublesome Genie, to which Mozenrath sneered. He had attempted to harness the _Djini_'s power for himself at one point, but to no avail thanks to that cumbersome street rat and his friends. But if the _Djini _was here, then of a surety the rest of their motley crew of do-gooders would not be far in tow. Jasmine and Genie were alone, but he could not make out what the girl was saying. Then, Genie took the shape of a fly and fluttered out of the room. Mozenrath understood the metaphor, even as Jasmine turned, thinking she had the upperhand. Now he had a choice: he could warn Nadja that there were spies in her shadow, or he could let the chips fall where they may and see how the lovely Nubian snake fared against the most unlikely group of heroes Arabia had ever seen. Mozenrath realized that Nadja had indeed affected him in some way in that he even considered the option of _choosing _to begin with. With a growl, he stepped away from the waters, then towards the shined pane of a mirror that rippled when he pressed a magically-imbued finger to its deceptively smooth surface. Immediately, Nadja's room came into view, placid and undisturbed. He could not find her anywhere, until he saw the rustle of vermilion curtains and the Nubian passed through them, her skin shining with water, her hair damp and wax-styled locks falling just past mid-back. She wore nothing but a sheer silk absorbing sheet and Mozenrath searched her for weapons. He found none, and when he tracked her soundless footsteps to the large mahogany desk where he saw her arsenal laid bare for his eyes to peruse.

"Impossible…" He whispered. The weapons were too many to hide on so slight a woman, and as he watched her dress, he understood a facet of the woman's lethal nature. First, she styled her hair, snatching up two, extremely slender blades in which she slid under her mass of hair. He saw her hands moving, styling it to hold the blades in place. Next, she settled straps all over her naked body, tightening them and stretching and moving to assure she was comfortable. Then came the other blades. A blade about the length of her triceps—one for each arm—was settled, and he found when she moved and flexed in a way, the blades unsheathed a hair of steel before she relaxed and it settled. There were blades on her forearms, sheathed safely which she could unsheathe into her waiting hand. Then there were her thighs. Mozenrath was a disciplined man, but he was still a man, and as she leaned over to secure the blades along her thighs (both along her hips, the back of each thigh, inside of each), calves, and shins, his eyes swept appreciatively over the curves of her backside. Finally, she snatched up true clothing, made entirely of suede, a vest carrying six stiletto daggers on each side which settled snugly against her ribs. She dressed in form-fitting garments, and by the time she was finished, she snatched up two tiny razors, which she strategically placed in her mouth. Mozenrath wondered how she had spoken to him all this time knowing she could cut her mouth if she moved the wrong way. He had heard their training was grueling, but he had no idea how creative they got with their weapons. When she settled, she took up the final weapon, a sword of thin, flexible steel which sheathed with a punctuating _hiss _down the length of her back, just beneath the two sidedraw sheaths on the small of her back. Everything fit, and there wasn't a line out of place on her. She was ruthlessly proficient, and as she moved to stand before the mirror, she crossed her arms.

"I'm killing him tonight. I'll implicate Jasmine in the murder." She said conversationally. Mozenrath smiled.

"As creative as that sounds, that is not the plan I had in mind." Nadja was pulling her gloves tight, licking her lips. The appearance of her in what he assumed was her normal garb had altered her beauty, made it less feminine and more diamond-cut, giving her an appeal that was almost frightening.

"Plans change," she remarked coldly, "with a dead sultan, Madina will fall into chaos, giving you ample time to come in and restore order and instate your own regime. They will welcome you by the time my compatriots are finished." Mozenrath stepped through the mirror, obviously angry.

"_If _they complete their task." He replied, and everything about the Adder seemed to still itself, and she turned her head to a slow cant to regard him, her eyes cold, her expression unreadable.

"You would do well to explain yourself, sorcerer." Despite the passion that had nearly overtaken them both nights prior, it seemed both had stowed weapons and magic should things come to blows.

"I mean, that Jasmine has invited her little band of heroes to thwart us." Why was he telling her this? "Aladdin may very well be in the city attempting to weed out your companions as we speak. Jasmine is sending her _Djini _after you…so mind what you say and do from now on."

"All the more reason for me to kill the sultan and be on my way to Agrabah." Mozenrath hesitated as she began to walk toward the door, before he came after her.

"Nadja!" He said her name with more earnest than he meant to, stilling the Adder's steps but not forcing her to turn and face him. "If you mean to kill him, do so under cover of complete darkness. Give them no reason to suspect you." Nadja was quiet a moment.

"Do not presume to tell me how to do my job." She remarked fiercely and left the room. Mozenrath had managed to not tell her that her rivals were also prowling about, and her comrades may have been dead already, but he stepped back through the mirror, in time for Genie to come in and see him vanish into it. It wasn't the proof he was looking for, but he at least knew that Nadja and Mozenrath had some sort of communication…but it was through her mirror? Genie stood before the mirror, feeling its cool surface as if he could activate its magical gateway by touch. After a fruitless attempt, he concluded it was Mozenrath who came to her and not the other way around. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving beyond the curtains leading to the bathing chamber. Transforming into a small, fly once more, he buzzed on to inspect. Forgetting that fly vision was poor, the image before him was broken into thousands of tiny facets, he saw a tall, slender figure coming towards the bedroom.

"She is not here." The voice was cold and raspy, as if there were two voices shared in one body as oppose to the one.

"She is here. Else her companions would have been gone before we found them. The Adder does not know the other two are dead. She is working alone, and killing her will be easy." The second voice was deeper, feminine, but it was different, as if magic would unravel around Genie at the sound. The other voice laughed.

"Do not presume to underestimate the likes of Nadja Maharat. She may be alone, now, but that has never stopped her before."

"And she will be distracted by that band of misfits led by the Princess of Agrabah. We can destroy them all at one time if need be."

"Nadja is _mine _to kill. Let Vanhi handle the misfits and that pitiable _Djini_. We've more important query to hunt."

Genie gulped. It seemed the game had just become a lot more dangerous than Al and Jas could probably handle even _with _his help. If these people were who he thought they were, with Nadja being what he thought she was, then they had to fortify Agrabah's defenses before any of these individuals left Madina. Mozenrath had summoned some of the most fearsome killers Genie himself had ever heard of…but why?

He didn't want to stick around to find out.

_You come out at n_**i**_ght_

_Th_**a**_t's when the energy co_**m**_es._

_And the d_**a**_rk side's light._

_And the va_**m**_pires roam._

_You strut y_**o**_ur Rasta wear._

_A_**n**_d your suicide poem._

_And a cro_**s**_s from a fai_**t**_h._

_That died b_**e**_fo_**r**_e Jesus came._

_You're building a mystery._

Bodies littered the floor, some broken with their final death-grips still prominent around their various weapons which failed in every way to save them from their gruesome fate. Some were still wallowing in their own gore, whispering their final, gurgled prayers to their respective gods as death pressed in on their consciousness from all sides, the Reaper coming to collect that which was so gruesomely delivered to Him. Amongst these brave, pious men was the sovereign prince of Madina—the _true_ target. He had fought valiantly for one who had been taken completely by surprise, but in the end, his assassination was inevitable. Two of his guards had survived the attack, albeit they sustained wounds of their own. Eventually, they had cornered the deadly viper on the balcony, sending her careening from the balcony's edge with an arrow in her chest. Relieved, the two rushed to peer into the darkness below, certain they had put an end to the threat.

"Did you get her?" The war-scarred veteran asked, seemingly panicked at the prospect of what they'd just done. The taller, more slender of the two looked up, not understanding why the man was so persistent. His hair was a dusky gold, matted with blood, and his companion, a seasoned veteran with a scar that kept his left eye shut, fixed him with an even stare from his good eye.

"She took an arrow square in the chest and fell off the balcony. If the arrow didn't kill her, the fall is certain to do so." The blond responded. The older warrior did not look so ready to believe that their plight could have been that simple. After all, an entire squadron of the best warriors had fallen under her ever-weaving blades. It seemed entirely too convenient that she'd caught an arrow to the chest and was simply struck with bad luck.

"Boy, there are unmarked graveyards **full **of men who _thought _they had that bitch." The older warrior said sharply. The younger warrior did not seem so ready to believe the old man's panic when suddenly he dropped to the floor, his gray hair slick with blood, and a small hand-axe cleaved into his skull. The younger warrior panicked, snatching up his sword as his eyes darted to the figure that now darkened the doorway. She was soaked to the marrow in moat water, but there was a smile on her face. For a moment, the young man and the Threat merely stared one another down, before suddenly she leapt into motion. Unsure of how to defend himself, he held up his sword, feeling the breeze as the woman simply blew past him, leaping onto the balcony railing. Looking back in bewilderment, he caught a glimpse of kohl-black eyes and a blade-edged smile, before she was simply _gone_.

_Listen as the wind blows, from across the Great Divide._

_Voices __**trapped in yearning**__, memories __**trapped in time**__._

_The __**night is my companion**__, the __**solitude my guide**__._

_Would I spend __**forever**__ here, and not be __**satisfied**__?_

Aladdin had been trailing the pair when the bell began to toll. He and Carpet immediately tore into an alley as the pair stopped, stealing glances at one another. Aladdin strained as a morbid hush fell over the city. The bell continued to toll, and Aladdin understood now what was happening.

"Already?" He heard one of the hooded figures whisper in earnest. "She was supposed to wait until the people were ready to strike out." The voice was almost sibilant in nature, akin to what a serpent may sound like were it given the power to speak. The taller of the two spoke, his voice a deep toll likened to a death bell.

"Something must have thrown her plans. We should rendezvous with the Adder and make haste for the Citadel. Things are about to get very bloody around here." When Aladdin heard this, he immediately knew Jasmine was in danger. Carpet was a step ahead, and as Aladdin jump, the rug slid beneath him and the two shot off into the night sky towards the palace which was already lit as guards scoured the grounds for the culprit. Jasmine had already changed and was looking for Genie. They met Aladdin on the balcony.

"Aladdin!" She shouted, her voice competing with the tolling bell. "Aladdin! Dastan is…Dastan is…" She couldn't even say the word, and worse yet, she knew on whose hands the blood lay. Jasmine was about to run toward Aladdin when Nadja suddenly burst threw the curtains to snatch the princess by the hair. Aladdin halted as he watched Jasmine twist to drive her fist into Nadja's cheek. Nadja stumbled backward, clutching her aching jaw before she was on Jasmine again, a stiletto dagger pressed against the younger woman's throat. The entire scene ground to a halt, with Jasmine not daring to move lest she die at the edge of the Adder's blade, and Aladdin torn between a head-on assault and negotiating with the woman who had eluded all for months at a time.

"I must say, Princess, I had hoped our next meeting would be under more favorable circumstances. But my employer needs leverage for this to work." Nadja tightened her grip on Jasmine's arm, causing her to grunt in pain and discomfort.

"You're trapped," Aladdin countered, "you won't be able to escape. I'll chase you all the way into Mozenrath's lair if I have to." Nadja's eyes cut to him in a _black snap _gaze that was as deadly as the blades she carried.

"That so, street rat? You and what army?"

"This army!" It was Genie—an innumerable amount of them—dressed in camouflage gear, with the lead Genie sporting a cigarette in his mouth and a five o' clock shadow. Nadja regarded them with her brows raised in boredom, a sneer curling her lips as she turned both herself and Jasmine to back towards the balcony's ledge.

"If it is to the Land of the Black Sand you shall chase me, then by all means, do so!" Before Nadja could complete her small victory, a black arrow landed at her feet. Suddenly wrought with shock, she shoved Jasmine over the edge, leaping away from the arrow as a vampire would a crucifix. Carpet and Aladdin followed the tumbling princess, catching her before she could be broken upon the ground below, swooping back up to chase the Adder as she looked up to see a writhing mass of shadow and umbra floating above them.

"You are betrayed, _Viperinae_! Mozenrath has ordered we exterminate you should you fail or succeed and we were all too happy to oblige him! Your companions are already dead!" Aladdin and his friends were beginning to see the big picture, but it was Genie who knew what truly had caused this. Nadja did not respond, but the unkempt fury in her eyes spoke volumes as she leapt from the balcony's edge, floating and gliding toward the ground, vanishing before her feet touched the stone pathway. The writhing mass of shadow cackled, then vanished.

"What the _hell _was that?!" Iago demanded and from Genie's worried look, all eyes turned to him, the exclaimed inquest writ on all of their faces.

"I'll explain on the way." He said, echoing Aladdin's instincts to leave and head for the Land of the Black Sand.

_Oh no, here it is again._

_I need to know why I chose to __**betray you**__._

"Betrayed!" The word was a cobra-spit of truth and lie all in the same scintillating turn as the back of her hand knocked a jug of water across from her sending it spilling and clattering to the thirsty dunes. Nadja wanted to kill him, wanted to shred him to pieces after making him watch her destroy that accursed gauntlet that seemed permanently fixed on his right hand. After realizing that her comrades were indeed _not _dead, but merely injured from their respective run-ins with the other _Immortalis_, she had declared their contract with Mozenrath dissolved and had personally declared war on the Seven Deserts. Ibrahim, the most level-headed of the trio sat by the modest campfire they'd set up after fleeing the city. Their Friesian mounts stood nearby, ready in the even that they needed to take flight. Nadja was fuming, but her compatriots seemed to have expected this betrayal.

"I knew we should have killed him when we had the chance! I knew from the moment he refused to pay us up front that we should have killed him for having us summoned!" Nadja was taking this betrayal a lot harder than any of them should have. Sadique did not let this transgression go unaccounted for.

"You seem to be acting more like a scorned lover than a betrayed contractor. You have been in this trade for quite some time, Nadja, I would think you would come to expect this behavior from his type." Nadja's dark eyes cut to her fellow _Viperinae _like a blade, but she could not speak through her gritted teeth. Mozenrath's kiss was still freshly imprinted in her memory, like a constant breath of _fresh air _with each moment her thoughts returned to that night. He had inebriated her senses, drowned her until she was choking on her own medicine—all with a _single kiss_. Nadja bit her tongue.

"I have lain with six sultans in the past several months, and I have killed one this night only to find that it was all for naught—only to find out that he has summoned the _Immortalis _to this realm to make our lives that much harder. I had not expected him to be able to summon both our group and theirs without draining significant amounts of his own strength…enough for us to kill him without effort. You see now why I am distrustful of magic."

"It is magic that keeps us in our prime, Nadja." Ibrahim finally spoke, but his eyes were towards the West—towards Mozenrath and his kingdom. "And it is with magic we must defeat him. Steel can only carry us so far, and it won't be long before the _Immortalis _betray him. We can not bring our war into this world. We have done enough damage." Sadique stood up with a scoff, arms spread out as he looked between his two comrades, disgusted.

"When in the hell did you grow a conscious, Ibrahim? When?! We are killers! We are warriors! Blood is the only decoration we are allowed, and it is by blade and blood we are bound—I beg the two of you to shove you personal grudges and look at the facts: he betrayed us. Betrayal begets punishment. We kill him, and we leave this world. And we don't come back." He looked pointedly to Nadja when he said this. How could she return? He had betrayed her, and she had made herself an enemy of the realm by playing his ambassador alone. Whether they died here or no, Mozenrath had assured that none would ally themselves with them to take him down.

He had planned this from the beginning.

Nadja stood, dusting the granules of sand from her backside.

"Very well, then. We go and destroy him, and leave. The _Immortalis _will be certain to follow anyway."

Part of her relished the thought of vengeance, and the other wanted to know _why _he had done it.

_From the fangs of __**sadistic punishment**__, I will chop up the existence of my __**natural enemies**__._

"You were told to be _discreet_." Mozenrath's voice was the dangerous quiet of a scarce-contained fury. The writhing shadows at his fore mockingly laughed.

"We do as we please!" The distorted voices shot back. "The Adder escaped along with her companions, but they will surface again. We will wait for them here." Mozenrath slammed his gauntleted fist onto a table, but the figures were unmoved by the display of rage.

"You were ordered to destroy them. There are to be no loose ends, I thought we were clear on this." He wasn't quick enough to cast a defensive spell as a shadowy hand gripped him by the throat. For the first time, a face was spit from the writhing mass of shadows, one of a dark face with eyes that were a fusion-burn of lavender, and hair of spider-silk white.

"And you must have misunderstood the texts. We do **not** take orders from _humans_. We took up this mission because it is _ours _to take, not because you _summoned _us, fool." The girl tossed him to the floor before vanishing back into the shielding umbra that writhed around her. Mozenrath was on his feet, still feeling the cold imprint of her grip around his neck. He had never been much for physical prowess, and he knew that had been a mistake seeing as how the types he dealt with were less than savory.

He would have had better luck testing his mettle against the Adder. At least, with her, he knew where he stood. As the _Immortalis _took their leave, he regained his composure, adjusting his clothing and snorting in disgust.

"When the _Viperinae _arrive, we're sending _all_ of them from whatever hell they seeped from." He snarled, and Xerxes hissed in accord with his master's sentiments. There was precious little else they could do save wait until both forces converged upon the Citadel, and he could easily destroy Aladdin and his band (and would relish the task of a surety), but he would need strong magic to draw the _Viperinae _and _Immortalis_ to the place where he could banish them back to whatever realm came to mind _first_.

_Roaming in between the world of sleep and awake._

_Seems so far away from where I've been, and unsure but unafraid._

"You mean to tell me these…these _Viperinae _are just mercenaries?" Jasmine inquired, almost disgusted that someone like that had nearly gotten the best of all of them. Genie nodded, and Iago concurred.

"I've heard of them. They're a nasty bunch, real cloak and dagger type people—Jafar didn't risk calling them up for Agrabah's takeover because when you call them, they're very hard to send back."

"Send back?" Jasmine echoed. Genie began to explain what he remembered of the ritual. Being immortal had its perks. Knowing the current threat they were faced with was most likely one of the few he could name from memory.

"Well, you have to summon their handler who in turn summons them." While they flew, Genie set them up in a sort of classroom, using a ruler to point out a very complicated diagram depicting various stick figures. "It takes a lot of power and time to summon the god by itself, which is why you better have a good reason to be calling the _Viperinae_. My guess is that Moze," he pointed to a particularly sinister-looking stick figure on his floating chalkboard, "was getting tired of losing, and decided to pull out a wild card. The problem with wild cards is…well…they're wild!" Genie's face distorted, tongue lolling about, eyes bugging, until Iago thumped him in the back of the head.

"What he means to say is: you never can trust the _Viperinae_. They aren't good _or _bad; only what you order them to be—granted you've paid their asking price. And when they ask you to pay? You better be packin' more than cold hard cash." Genie recovered, the environment returning to a semblance of normalcy as they passed from their land into that of the Black Sand.

"Well, it doesn't matter because we're sending them all back to where they came from—payment or no. Mozenrath should know better by now that he can't beat us." Aladdin said with the entire confident swagger befitting his mien five years prior. No one responded to his proclamation, as for once they all agreed that brute force coupled with Genie magic would be needed to send Mozenrath and his allies packing. As they crested a dune that led to the long, stone bridge leading toward the Citadel, they saw three Friesians riding hard ahead of them.

"Are those…?" Jasmine began and Aladdin coaxed Carpet to full speed, hovering above the _Viperinae _in time to see the looks on their faces. It was one of outrage and indignation, and a cold determination and perseverance that could outlast any magically imbued mortal. They were riding for vengeance, and Aladdin never once considered it would help to defeat Mozenrath and the _Immortalis _first before tackling the black-clad trio beneath them. By the time they all reached the Citadel doors, that was when the trio of assassins faced them, their mounts vanishing. Nadja stood at her group's fore, flanked by Ibrahim and Sadique. Aladdin hopped off Carpet as the two groups faced one another.

"Go home," Nadja practically growled, "Mozenrath's life is ours for the taking." Iago perched on the Genie's shoulder.

"Maybe we should listen to 'em. They seem like they mean business…besides, wouldn't it be nice if _we _didn't have to fight Mozenrath all the time?" He offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Your fowl speaks sound words, boy," Ibrahim said evenly, "it would be best if you went home. You may yet live to save Agrabah when we are through with this boy-sorcerer and his pitiable attempts at duplicity." Genie took the form of a therapist, complete with a legal pad and pen.

"Go ahead. Tell us how you _really _feel." Aladdin swept his hand in front of him.

"We're not going any where. We're here to stop Mozenrath and send you guys back to wherever it is he summoned you from." At this, Nadja let out a raucous laugh, as biting and venomous as the snake whose name she took as her moniker.

"You? A filthy misfit and a band of slightly cleaner misfits and a pitiful _Djini_? Eh, _wallahi_. Does everyone think that because they have some small bit of magic at their disposal that they've mastery over it?" She turned to Ibrahim. "Open the door. Let's get this over with and burn this realm to ashes." Aladdin was a step ahead of them, Genie transforming into a commando, who then simply kicked open the Citadel doors with his booted foot. Nadja sneered, but she would not discount a resource when it made itself available.

"Listen um…Nadja," Aladdin said, obviously uncomfortable in the Adder's proximity, "how about we call a temporary truce? You want to get Mozenrath, we want to get him too. I mean, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', right?" Ibrahim made a move to try and kill Aladdin but Nadja held up a hand.

"The misfit has a point, Ibrahim. He has dealt with Mozenrath before…we will provide the steel, insofar as you provide the magic as necessary. Keep in mind that he also has the _Immortalis _lurking within this place, and that they will deliver you into a fate far worse than one we could ever force upon you." Her words carried the omen of potential—the potential that despite their previous adventures, they were dealing with three sets of enemies, two of which they knew precious little, one of which was now as predictable as the weather. Nadja motioned to Sadique and Ibrahim once and the two _Viperinae _vanished into the lurking shadows.

"Wait! How'd they do that? Where'd they go?" Iago flapped frantically, worried that one would come from him. Nadja shot a rude look to the bird.

"I implore you to keep your pets quiet." Her gaze settled on Jasmine. "_All_ of them." Jasmine's eyes narrowed but she said nothing in retort. The two women knew where they stood with one another. Nadja's expression told Jasmine everything she needed to know. The moment the truce was dissolved, they would be coming to blows. Nadja led Aladdin, Jasmine, and Carpet down one corridor, while Genie, Abu, and Iago took another.

"We have to keep the _Immortalis_' attentions divided. Separate, they're pretty much invincible, but together they are indomitable." Jasmine rolled her eyes.

"That's comforting to know," she muttered, feeling the dark, damp, cold of the place press in against her bare skin, making her skin feel clammy. "I've always hated this place. For a sultan in his own right, he certainly lacks for style." Nadja glanced over her shoulder.

"What he lacks for style, he makes up for in foolishness…and magical might. I have slain his kind before." Bitterness lacquered her words like a poisonous gloss, and Jasmine wanted to remark upon it, but she wasn't sure if this was the time or place to be questioning Nadja's vehemence over what should have been an expected betrayal. It didn't matter, as when this was over, they'd be sending her back to her own world, and they would have to work to repair the damages done in the other kingdoms—none of which were magical. Even if they stopped Mozenrath, the damage that had been done would set them back for a long while, especially with one sultan dead and no heir to ascend to the throne in his stead.

"Just how many kingdoms did you destroy before we found you out?" Jasmine asked suddenly. Nadja responded with a chuckle.

"All but one." Jasmine's eyes were wide. Six kingdoms in the span of half a year…

…Iago was right about one thing: you could never trust the _Viperinae_.

_If it is __**written in the stars**__, then it can be read. From __**this is prophecy**__._

The spell was almost complete, and the black whirlpool of sand he had used to summon the god was spinning at a stable speed, ready for him to toss that unsavory lot (and the assassins too) into it and be rid of all of his annoyances once and for all. Xerxes hovered just above the swirling portal curiously, and a bubble popped in his face, sending the slimy creature jetting off behind his master.

"I told you not to get too close to it…unless you want to end up in the Hinterlands of Amoria. I hear tell that's a—" He didn't have time to finish as the Citadel shook. Regaining his composure afterward, he frowned.

"Our guests of honor have arrived earlier than expected. No matter…it's me they want, and they'll have to come here if they want me." He laughed and began casting the remnants of the spell. When the portal fully stabilized, it stopped spinning and became a polished, black disk. Rippling, it showed a snow-stormed wasteland peppered with pine trees and ridged with snow-covered mountains.

"Let's see them take their private war to this place."

Genie, Iago, and Abu…were in trouble. The shaking of the Citadel had been their doing, but it had been ineffective in deterring the shadowy _Immortalis _who now pursued them, wielding a hammer that stank of magic so sinister that even the Genie's usually comic-relief demeanor was tempered in the pursuit.

"Hey! Semi-phenomenal, nearly-cosmic buffoon! Don't you have anyway to…stop this thing?!" Iago practically squawked as another hammer strike rippled through the unending corridors, driving them deeper within the Citadel. Genie, thinking quickly, transformed into a brick wall. The lissome, shadowy creature skidded to a halt, the writhing shadows spitting out what it really was. It was a female, small and dark, comely and well-muscled, with eyes like thieved starlight. She hissed at the Genie-turned-road-block.

"Sorry little lady, if you don't have your papers, can't let you pass." The woman hissed again, drew her hammer back and struck. Without warning, Genie was laying in pieces of shattered blue brick and a pair of blinking, confused eyes. The woman was sucked back into living shadow, pursuing Iago and Abu next, who shrieked as one and bolted in the opposite direction. When Genie pieced himself back together, he shook his head.

"And I thought Mozenrath had anger issues." He said and took off after his friends.

"Doesn't this thing have some sort of weak spot?!" Aladdin ground out, muscles flexing under the strain of keeping the double doors to some unnamed room shut against the force that beat against them from the other side. Nadja and Jasmine held the door with him.

"I would have destroyed it by now if it had one I could readily—gah—name!" Nadja ducked her head as a large broadside blade jammed its way through the doors in a splintering of wood that was no doubt costly. Jasmine grunted.

"This is hopeless. We have to fight this thing or run!" She cried out. Nadja opened her mouth to retort but there was a distant ringing behind them, and then the ringing grew consistently louder.

"What now?!" Aladdin cried, and from the look of unprecedented dread that crossed Nadja's face it was obvious it was the third _Immortalis_.

"Quickly, stuff your ears!" She hissed to them. When neither Aladdin nor Jasmine moved to do as she commanded, she barked out, "I said stuff your ears!" The moment they released the door, all three were cast backward, but Aladdin and Jasmine went to safety, plugging their ears with scraps of cloth from their own clothing. Nadja stuffed her own ears, but had a blade drawn in either hand. The steel glimmered like starlight in the poor lighting of the room, and a shadowy figure filled the splintered doorway, while another melted from the overhead chandelier. Aladdin made a move to try and help Nadja but Jasmine stayed his steps, shaking her head. They didn't know what they were up against, and Nadja most likely could handle herself. As the shadows spit out the figures it became apparent that the _Immortalis _consisted entirely of women. One was taller than Nadja, with skin that was as gray as a thunderhead, and eyes like a fusion-burn of amethyst, the other was silver-skinned, covered in whorls of black tattoos that decorated her face and two ram's horns protruding from beneath a curtain of oil-dark hair, and eyes like spilled blood. Nadja kept her eyes on the demon-looking one mostly. Aladdin finally made his move, telling Carpet to help Nadja should she need it, as he was the only one without ears. Nadja smiled. Mozenrath would lose, regardless of which side won—and so long as he _lost_, she would fight.

"Still fighting for the losing team, eh mother?" The gray-skinned woman with snow-hair crowed. Jasmine's eyes narrowed. "I guess it will always be thus." Nadja did not give the woman the merited response she desired. When the white-haired warrior sprung into motion at the same time as her compatriot, Nadja dove forward into a roll, on her feet within the next heart beat before a segmented blade drove itself toward her. She leapt to one side, but the droplets of corrosive acid on the blade's edge burned through her clothes, searing the skin on her ribs until blood welled from the wounds. This did not slow her significantly, but the pain was an annoyance she'd rather not have dealt with.

"Aladdin we have to help her!" Jasmine cried and Aladdin smiled. "About time! Carpet!" Carpet zoomed beneath Aladdin and carried him above the fight. Nadja moved like empty poetry, indescribably lissome and fluid yet her drive within was husked hollow. She was tired—another side-effect of the acid. Jasmine looked around for a weapon or some other deterrent to tip the scales in their favor. It was then, she was aware of a slight tingling sensation that brought a chill to her spine. Looking up, she saw the blood-eyed demon poised to strike with an axe. Moving quickly, Jasmine rolled out of the way of the descending blade in time to be scooped up by Aladdin.

"We're outclassed, Aladdin. We have to find Mozenrath! He's the only one who can send these creatures back!" Jasmine coaxed. Nadja, in the meantime, had managed to avoid getting cut, but the spray of acid had eaten holes in various parts of her clothing, and the wounds she'd sustained on her leg had forced her to slow. The white-haired berserker drove up the middle, wanting to kill the Nubian up close before Nadja struck hard, feigning extreme weakness in time to catch the woman on the temple and disorient her. Jasmine held out her hand, leaning over Carpet's gold-thread edge hoping the Nubian would not let her personal vendetta get her killed before this mess was cleaned up.

"Nadja! Quick! We have to find Mozenrath!" Nadja sheathed her blades, taking Jasmine's hand, Nadja's feet left the ground as she hauled herself onto Carpet, blinking—obviously uncomfortable with the notion that she was riding a _carpet_.

"Mozenrath has no doubt already cast the spell to open the portal that will send us back to our realm." Nadja said, glancing behind them to assure that none of the shadows of the place were in _pursuit_. She admitted, the carpet was remarkably fast for something not meant to be sentient, let alone fly. "If this is so, then we need to find the chamber in which he cast the spell and draw the _Immortalis _there. Where are Sadique and Ibrahim?"

The Citadel shook once more.

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" Genie cried as he, Iago, and Abu were cornered in a small space as the shadowy creature with the warhammer put holes and crags in the wall to get closer to them. The other _Viperinae _had arrived in time to distract the woman, and she turned her vicious attentions upon Sadique and Ibrahim. However, as Genie, Iago, and Abu attempted to make their escape, they caught sight of Sadique taking a hammer to the side of his face in the fray.

What came next was a spray of blood as the Asp fell in a pool of his own gore, half his skull obliterated. Ibrahim, being much larger and stronger than his other two comrades, fared better. As the bloodied hammer came back around to strike, he caught its shaft between his large hands and held it at bay, gritting his teeth. The female shadow brought her face close to his, stretching her neck until she was breathing on his face, her snarl readily apparent beneath the black veil of living umbra. Ibrahim spat.

"You will die here with him, abomination." The creature grinned, showing a mouth full of serrated fangs and a forked tongue.

"After you!" It hissed and Ibrahim growled, his face contorted as he struggled to push back. Then, his expression changed. It was like darkness falling over a land that should have been perpetually bathed in sunlight. His jaw went slack, his eyes widened, locked in a pain that his deep voice could not readily vocalize. There, he coughed, droplets of blood splattering onto the woman's now-revealed and smug-looking face. She chuckled behind her fangs, silver eyes holding nothing but the utmost amusement for this strange twist of fate. Ibrahim's grip on the hammer loosened and he looked down. Protruding from his chest was a segmented blade, the acid eating a steadily widening hole in his torso. It retracted and the giant man fell to the ground in a spill of entrails.

"To ensure that that cumbersome Adder can not bring you back…" The warhammer-wielding woman brandished her weapon and brought it down hard on Ibrahim's head. Without the head, Necromancy could not work. The other two _Immortalis _smiled.

"_Now_, she is alone." The amethyst-eyed one remarked with a cold laugh.

_Jail bars ain't __**golden gates**__. Those who fake, __**they break**__ when they meet their 400 pound mate._

Mozenrath had been expecting the _Immortalis _to arrive first, but what he got was an angry Adder, a street rat, and a shrew of a princess. The first thing Nadja did when she found Mozenrath was strike him across the face. He had not been expecting her fist, and when he crashed to the ground, he was aware that she now knew that the other _Viperinae _were dead. He saw them, the tears that wanted to be shed for her fallen comrades, and he relished her pain, drank of it like an elixir of immortality.

"And here I was expecting you to be bitter," he remarked wiping the blood from his mouth as he climbed to his feet. Nadja had already drawn a blade but Jasmine grabbed her arm.

"No! We need him to send those…those things back, and send you home! Killing him won't help!" Mozenrath pointed to Jasmine as if he were pointing out a game show winner.

"Listen to the shrew, Adder! I brought you into this world…and only _I _can take you out." Nadja shook with fury, her eyes blinking back tears.

"He had them _slaughtered_! Like common cattle! Give me one good reason why I should not gut him right here and now!"

"Because he can send you home—" Nadja hissed at the princess, jerking her arm away from the younger woman's grip.

"Do you know where _home _is for me, princess? Has palace life muddled your mind? Not everyone's home is like yours. Home for _me _is wherever I lay my head at night."

For some reason, Mozenrath felt conflicted at those words, but he kept up his arrogance. Nadja had failed in her mission to help him take over the Seven Deserts, and as such, she should be expendable…right? But for the past half year, she had laid her head in a spare room in the Citadel. In a way, this was home to her by her own words. Mozenrath, in light of all that had happened between them, the idle flirtation, the barbs, the jokes, that damnable _kiss_, was hard-pressed to send _her _back. Nadja's eyes cut to him, and her fury sobered him.

"Well, you don't have to go home," Mozenrath said, "but you certainly can't stay _here_." Nadja's lip curled, and inside she was hurting. As Genie, Iago, and Abu caught up, they were winded and frightened beyond reasonable belief.

"We have a problem!" Iago shrieked. "There is a psycho killer out there, smashing people with hammers like she's tenderizing meat!" Jasmine saw the tensing in Nadja's shoulders and shot a look to Iago to keep his big mouth shut.

"Well, now that you're all here, you can direct your attention to this." Mozenrath lifted his glove hand, power leaking from it like blue smoke. It engulfed first Nadja, then Jasmine, and the rest. The force began to pull them towards the portal on the floor, which had opened and now shimmered like a frozen lake, showing to them the image of the snow-blown Hinterlands of another realm to which Nadja struggled to get away from.

"You fools! Did you really think I was going to just send the assassins packing and pass up on the opportunity to kill…" He paused a moment, pressing his bare fingers to his lips a moment. "…seven birds with one stone—or rather, portal!" Nadja groped for something to cling to as Mozenrath made a motion that would fling them all into the portal. He was the only one who could open and close it, and so Nadja would use this to punish him in the end.

"Jasmine!" Nadja cried and Jasmine was two steps ahead of her, reaching and taking hold of Mozenrath's outstretched gloved hand, as she was the one closest to him. The glove came off easily, revealing the skeletal appendage as Nadja and Jasmine fell, the spell still in effect. Nadja passed through the portal first, then Jasmine, and before anyone else could blink, Mozenrath cried out in outrage, frantically diving after them to get back his gauntlet. Aladdin moved to follow but the portal shut as the spells was taken to another realm. He landed on the hard floor, crying out Jasmine's name.

"The Adder escaped?!" The _Immortalis _had found them, and they looked unhappy.

"Genie we have to go after Jasmine! She could be killed!" Genie gathered the remainder of their group.

"And if we stick around here, we will be!" The group vanished, leaving the _Immortalis _to find another means to pursue their query.

"Should we follow them?" The blood-eyed demon asked. The amethyst-eyed warrior held up her hand.

"They are insignificant, Vanhi. No, we find a way to the Hinterlands, and we destroy them there. Then, we return and level this world to the ground."

"We should make this our stronghold," the hammer-wielding murderer said idly, "as the owner has vacated the premises." They did not even acknowledge Xerxes, who hid beneath a desk, fearful of the trio of creatures who now made this their stronghold.

The Land of the Black Sand suddenly became an even more terrifying place.


	9. The Serpent You Don't

**Author's Note: **This isn't the end, just the beginning of another story arc. I'm going to keep you guys in the dark as to what is happening in the Seven Deserts, as I want the shock value to keep when I finally reveal whether or not the _Immortalis _decided to stick around or no. Right now, we're going to see what happened to the trio who fucked around and fell into the portal. As always, read and review; because if you actually have been following the story, I'd at least like a review.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_I'm gonna __**wake up**__, yes and no._

_I'm gonna __**kiss**__ some part of._

_I'm gonna __**keep the secret**__._

_I'm gonna __**close my body**__ now._

There had been a moment of intense vertigo, a moment where one felt as if they were dumped beneath the frothing waters of an angry ocean, rolled beneath by merciless waves only to be spit back to the surface in a violent maelstrom of sensation that was at once painful and surreal. It had continued for what seemed like forever until finally, they were tossed upon the ground, scattered like so much dust upon the snow-dusted landscape they had seen in the portal's reflection.

_Xui Mei_.

The voice roused her from her state of stillness, as powerful as the pull of the moon upon the tides, but not enough to force open dark eyes and make them look upon the damage done. There were moments when she felt as if someone were pulling her apart, and she blatantly ignored the familiar voice that quivered the very fibers that bound her existence to the living world.

_**Leave me**__**be**__. _Her response was a flare of anger that was reminiscent of one pouring gasoline to a single flame, only to be doused with fatigue as the flame died down to a dim flicker once more. The voice would not leave her be.

_You have to help them. They can not die here_.

_Yes they can. Because I am dying here as well._

The power rolled her under the waves, forcing her to acknowledge her own physical existence.

_You can save them, and you __**will**__. _The powerful Voice won out in the end, and unseen hands forcibly dragged her into a state of consciousness and pain, and the wounds she had sustained in battle, as well as the wounds she had sustained from her fall sang in her memory as if someone had sprinkled salt in her eyes. Every where she looked was white and windy, and she could barely make out the silhouettes of the mountains against the slate-gray sky. Above the howling winds, with snowflakes melting into the suede of her garments with each hit, she heard a cough. Knowing the repercussions for ignoring the ones she had dragged into this realm with her, she struggled to her feet, noting the fatigued quiver in her thighs. By the time she made her way across the snow, she saw Jasmine struggling to her feet as well, and clutched in her hand was the Gauntlet. Jasmine had at least not lost her grip on it, but…

"Where is Mozenrath?" Nadja's voice was nigh swallowed by the howl of the wind; her lips dry from the cold, her limbs aching from the threat of sickness. Her question came a heartbeat before a skeletal hand snatched Jasmine's shoulder and she heard Mozenrath's frantic cry to return that which he had bound himself to. Nadja took off at a run, ignoring the scabbing burn wounds on her thighs before she dove to tackle Mozenrath to the ground. He was easier to spot in his darker clothing, and as Jasmine rolled away—empty-handed—Nadja struck Mozenrath across the jaw with her fist as his skeletal hand shot up to grip her face. Blood spilled as the sharp bones cut into her cheeks. She drove her elbow into his forehead. The grip released her and she tumbled back, her face streaked with her own blade. Mozenrath, dazed, began to search the snow.

"Where is it?!" He demanded. "Where did you put it you serpent bitch?!" Nadja watched him, unmoving as he dug through the endless snow to try and find his precious link to power.

And now, glancing about this desolate, snow-beaten world, Nadja realized it was his _only _link to power.

"Mozenrath." Nadja dropped his name like a stone in a pool of frothing water, and his dark eyes snapped to her like the crack of a whip. Forcibly thrown from his element, separated from the Gauntlet, and at the mercy of the elements, Nadja, and Jasmine, he would be forced to fight by hand. Whatever magic he could cast without the Gauntlet would not be able to match Nadja's physical prowess—even when she was wounded and fatigued.

"I have the Gauntlet. But we have to find shelter. You're the only one who can get us out of this world." Jasmine had found the Gauntlet, in truth, but she trusted the princess would play along.

"Nadja we can't trust him to help us," and then her gaze fell on the Adder like a guillotine, "and I can't trust you either." Nadja's eyes narrowed.

"My agenda has changed somewhat since my employer betrayed me, princess. Do you really think I have anything to gain by ending your worthless life at this point in time?" Jasmine fell silent, though she was wary.

"Your kind kills without motive or reason." Nadja stood up, sneering at the princess' brash assumption.

"And what do you know of 'my kind'? Fending off a few two-dinari cutthroats and thieves and you think you've got such a fine scope on every assassin, mercenary, and warrior who crosses your path, don't you? Look around you, princess. You are not in Agrabah, anymore, and unless you would like to return, we need Mozenrath more than you are comfortable with." Nadja never once took her gaze from the sorcerer who looked so much smaller without his Gauntlet to aid him. His clothes would be ragged within a few days in this harsh, uncaring land, his face so pale it seemed as if carved from ivory. Nadja held out her hand. "Give me the Gauntlet. At least with me, I know he can not take it so easily." Jasmine hesitated.

"How do I know you won't try and put it on yourself?" Nadja enamored the princess a mocking glance and sneered.

"Because unlike some of the less-than-savory bunch you've acquainted yourself with, I am not a slave to power."

"Then what are you a slave to?" The question caught the Nubian off guard, but not as much as Mozenrath's mocking response.

"She's a slave to passions and vices too sordid for one of _your _delicate sensibilities, princess. The Adder is a slave to a man's—" He didn't say much else when Nadja was suddenly upon him, hooking his jaw with her fist. Jasmine got the point, handing over the Gauntlet to the licentious Nubian who tucked it into a pouch on the belt that was slung in a deceptively precarious way about her hips. Jasmine visibly shivered from the cold and Nadja looked to Mozenrath pointedly.

"Give her your cape. Really, princess, you never really dress for the occasion, do you?" Mozenrath had not moved to give Jasmine anything but a sour glare, until Nadja patted the pouch at her belt, which to the casual observer, looked like an idle tapping of her fingers. With a mutter of annoyance, the sorcerer unhooked his cape and handed it to Jasmine.

"Thank you." She murmured, wrapping herself in it. Mozenrath flexed his skeletal hand, examining the bleached bones with a look of complete boredom.

"Where to now, O fearless Leader?" He asked in naught but a patronizing tone that he hoped grated the Adder's nerves to fine pulp. Nadja shrugged and began to head off towards the mountain silhouette.

"Hey! You can't just leave us here!" Jasmine said, running after her. "We have to find shelter for the night, and Mozenrath has to cast a spell to get us back ho—out of here." Nadja did not stop walking, but responded to the princess nonetheless.

"I can do as I please. And would I have been looking for shelter standing about engaging in persiflage with you and that duplicitous idiot?"

"I resent that, Adder. Have you forgotten how badly you kissed me the other night, already?" Mozenrath had caught up, and if he could not have power in the arcane, then he would have power by getting under the woman's skin as much as he could, crawl into her veins like some sort of heady narcotic, only to drag her down so far she had to jump to hit rock bottom. Nadja's lip curled briefly but Jasmine helped to ignore him. Without his magic, he was nothing more than an arrogant and handsome prince who needed to see the sun as soon as possible.

"But you need Mozenrath just as badly as I do, Nadja," Jasmine said.

"Aw princess, I'm touched. I always knew you had a thing for me." Mozenrath interjected, smugly returning Jasmine's withering glower with a smug and superior smirk. Nadja saw the silhouette growing larger, and decided to humor the princess with the conversation.

"Not as badly as you do."

_More_. Said the Voice that had pulled her from her state of suspension into the living world once more. Nadja ignored its resonating tone and continued walking. The trio was silent, and Mozenrath did not even bother to nettle at the women's nerves. So long as Nadja had his Gauntlet, he had to play to their demands, and he did so with the utmost reluctance. He needed his Gauntlet to get out of this world, as much as they needed him to get them out (or rather, they deluded themselves into thinking he'd help them). Jasmine pointed to the face of a mountain that housed a collection of natural coves within.

"Do you think anyone might be living there?" She asked.

"Only one way to find out," Nadja replied and Mozenrath smirked.

"I may need my Gauntlet if we run into any trouble." Nadja hazarded a slow glance to him, pointing to the cuts on her cheeks. "I daresay you can handle yourself." She said with a grin and Mozenrath fell silent. He had tried to play to logic, but she had countered. His skeletal hand, while not magical, was still strong in its own right. Jasmine tied the cape about her neck as they made for the base of the cove-mountain.

"I doubt these caves are being inhabited in this weather," she said, "so we won't have to fight or anything." Nadja did not respond with anything but a nod of her head. She was too tired to fight, but as they came upon the base half an hour later, she realized that it would be a higher climb than expected. As she felt her body for tools that may help make the climb easier, she began to suspect that they needed to make haste.

"So, Mozenrath," she began, removing a pair of stilettos and handing them to Jasmine to aid in her climb, "since you have planned to banish us all here…I trust you know all about this place, yes?" Mozenrath had been staring out into the distance, while snow whipped in every direction. Nadja's voice pulled him from his reverie and he met her gaze. For a moment, he said nothing, merely watched the Nubian quietly. Nadja's suede clothing was eaten away in some places from the acid burns of the _Immortalis _sword, and there was a bruise on her left brow from a fall she'd taken, and cuts with dried blood all over her face. And yet, amidst it all, she managed to allure him.

"Hinterlands of Amoria." He said simply and he watched with private satisfaction as dread encroached upon Nadja's face like shadows during twilight. Now he knew she would give him what he needed. Nadja glanced out toward the horizon, and saw nothing.

"Nadja? What's wrong? Where are we?" Jasmine asked, momentarily stopping her search for a proper foothold before Nadja turned to face her.

"We have to get to the highest cave we can reach as soon as possible."

"What? Why?"

"Start climbing!" The snowfall had begun to lessen and with each less snow flake, Nadja began to climb. Jasmine followed her path, using the same footholds and the stilettos. Mozenrath was close behind. He knew what happened once the snow began to lessen, the temperature would rise because—

"Hurry up!" Nadja called down, already reaching the first cave, but she knew it was not high enough. Now she hauled herself into the cave, reaching down to help Jasmine and Mozenrath. Mozenrath was not used to such physical exertion, and he struggled for breath, although he worked to hide it. Assuming they were ready to move on, Nadja stepped outside onto the ledge, moving to the left. Jasmine and Mozenrath shared glances and quickly followed. Nadja had not been to the Hinterlands since she was a teenager, but she had not forgotten the path she had taken in those final moments of her Improvisation training. The only problem with this was that she had not had to worry about her companions as they had fared or themselves without qualm. Mozenrath was physically weak in comparison to her dead friends, and Jasmine was hesitant but at least she did not pepper her with questions. They climbed on, and for hours it seemed as it all would be well.

Until the snow stopped falling.

"The snow stopped! I think we'll be fine, now!" Nadja and Mozenrath both knew the truth of it, though only one drew pleasure from it all.

"Poor naïve little Jasmine," he mocked as they reached the middle of the mountain, all sweating from the exertion, his arms crying out for relief. "You really don't know anything beyond that of the Seven Deserts, do you? Your father did a swell job keeping you locked away." Nadja shot him a glare that echoed in Jasmine's brown gaze.

"If you're not going to tell her, Mozenrath, then keep your mouth shut." Before Mozenrath could retort, Nadja explained the situation to the princess.

"We're in the Hinterlands of Amoria, Jasmine. This land is cursed. By night, snow falls unceasing, and by day…the land is flooded with lava from an unseen volcano." _By night we freeze, by day we burn_. The words of Sadique's younger self echoed in her head, both amused and annoyed at the impossibility of their training. Jasmine gasped.

"How do we survive this place?"

"We have to make it to the other side of the mountain and into the Heartlands where the weather is more…agreeable with your mode of dress." Mozenrath offered, much to Jasmine's chagrin. Nadja crossed her arms.

"We have to keep the highest ground we can for now. The lava will be here within the hour at the most." Jasmine nodded. "How did you manage to survive this place if you've been here before?" Nadja paused before stepping out onto the ledge.

"I didn't. That wasn't the purpose for my being here at the time." Both Mozenrath and Jasmine had no response for that before the group continued the arduous climb toward the cave near the peak.

By the time they reached the top, the sun was rising, and with it came the flood of magma. It rushed like a veritable ocean from all sides, making it impossible to discern the source of so much fire. The heat made them sweat, but practicality made Jasmine keep the cape on because when night fell, she would need it more than Mozenrath or Nadja. Climbing tiredly into the cave, the three collapsed against the wall farthest from the hot mouth, catching their breath and contemplating how they would escape Amoria with only Mozenrath's Gauntlet and the reluctant sorcerer as a source of power. Nadja herself had never been on the other side of the mountain range, and so even if they made it there, she would be going in blind.

"Great. So no food, no water, and a sea of lava outside out doorstep." Mozenrath muttered, rolling his eyes. "And I'm stuck with a shrew and a snake."

"Serves you right, for being such an evil bastard." Jasmine shot back in both her and Nadja's defense. Mozenrath could only smile. "You'd be whiling away the hours until your wedding in absolute boredom were it not for me, princess. You should thank me. I add spice to your life that Aladdin can not."

"More like a headache." Jasmine muttered leaning her head back against the stone wall and shutting her eyes.

"The two of you should have children. Perhaps they will come out more even-tempered and have a semblance of humility." Nadja provided, her voice rife with irritation. Both Mozenrath and Jasmine gave her a disgusted look. "As if you're any better, Nadja. You swept into our realm like a plague—"

"I was _hired _to sweep into your realm like a 'plague', princess. Count your blessings that I did not do what I did on a whim, else you and your friends would be dead and Agrabah would be but a dusty memory in my library."

"So you _do _have a home." Jasmine countered and Mozenrath chuckled.

"If you call that chaotic world of hers a home." He jabbed and Nadja shoved him. It was an uneasy camaraderie for the trio, and this adversity forced them into it, but it was all they had until they could find their way out of this hell Mozenrath had dragged them into.

_Decisions made from __**desperation**__, no way to go._

_Internal instincts craving __**isolation**__, for me to grow._

_My fears __**come alive**__, in this place where I once died._

_Demons dreaming, knowing I just __**needed to realign**__._

The day went on, but the lava sat and never cooled, merely flowed like a slow-moving ocean and heat rose from it in visible waves. Nadja stood near the mouth of the cave while Mozenrath slept. Of the three, only Mozenrath could afford to sleep with both eyes shut, as both women needed him and his arcane knowledge, and both women were bound by that alone to bring him no harm. Nadja slept very little, and Jasmine did not trust neither the viper nor the sorcerer to keep their word.

"You know, you could atone for your crimes and stay in Agrabah," Jasmine offered as Nadja leaned against the mouth of the cave, letting her wounds heal slowly from the valerian salve she'd put on them. Jasmine had shed the cape and spread it out as a makeshift pallet for them all to lay upon, and so far only Mozenrath took advantage of the reprieve sleep offered.

"I am not some regretful criminal, Jasmine. I am not plagued by night with nightmarish screams from all the people I've killed, all the lives I've ruined. I have never once been trouble by the things I do."

"But why? What kind of life is that to lead? This senseless killing you do, it's unrealistic, and leads no where." Nadja envied the princess her naïveté, then. She knew nothing of the worlds beyond her own, knew nothing of the shades of gray that colored people's intentions like ash. To her, things were so clean cut and black and white, and it was impossible to believe that some people were simply the way they were because that is the way the world worked.

"I have been doing this since I was sixteen, Jasmine. I was chosen by a god to do the work that you royals can not bring yourselves to do on your own. I am not some two-dinari assassin looking for my name to be a legend amongst the underworld of criminals in your land. I do what I do because it is what I was born to do. No more, no less."

"But what if you had the choice to do more than this? What if you could be something more?"

"What more could I possibly _be_, Jasmine? I am a killer. Dyed in the wool, no holds-barred _killer_. If I did not have any use for you or Mozenrath the two of you would be dead."

"But what do you need me for? You only need Mozenrath and his spellcasting to get home. I'm just dead weight, Nadja. So kill me now, and be done with it." For a moment, Nadja almost took the princess up on her ludicrous offer, but she only smiled.

"You are the leverage I need to pass through the Seven Deserts unmolested."

"And what about Mozenrath? When his usefulness expires, will you kill him?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

Silence.

Nadja could no more believe herself than Jasmine could. When all was said and done and Mozenrath reluctantly helped them back to the Seven Deserts…would she kill him simply because?

"He is responsible for the death of my companions. Killing him would avenge them."

"He is responsible, but he did not do it. Those…those shadow creatures did. Killing _them _would be vengeance. Killing him would be spite." Nadja did not say anything.

"Was it not you who said my _kind _needs no motive or reasoning for a kill? You want Mozenrath gone, same as I do. Whether it is vengeance or spite, he would be gone just the same." Jasmine wanted to sigh her exasperation, but stubbornness willed her to purse her lips and look down below at the sea of lava.

"I admit, it was rude of me to say that, but…has every kill been for a reason?" Nadja fixed Jasmine with an even stare.

"Most, yes. I kill only those I am hired to, not a soul more. Those who get in the way are dealt with accordingly. That is the way of things." Jasmine wondered if such a life were possible, and there stood living proof that it was, and it was also possible to not hav—that was absurd. _Everyone _had a conscience, but not everyone heeded theirs.

"And you have never felt guilt over anything you've done?" Nadja smiled, glancing back toward the sleeping sorcerer.

"What sort of assassin would I be if I shed tears over the lives I took? Dastan was a fool, taking to the pipe when there was no reason save curiosity to drive him. Councilor Saidii was more treacherous than I, and admittedly I killed him because he had discovered my plot, but the sultan of Persis has neglected his people. I did not change the courses of these kingdoms, Jasmine, I merely used what was available to me to speed the process along. The people clamored for justice and equality, and I provided them a means by which to obtain it."

"By pushing the kingdoms to ally themselves with _Mozenrath_? He has proven that he's nothing but a pompous, evil, ruthless _coward_," Jasmine was furious, "he would have enslaved the people or worse! He only wants power—_magic _power—and he will do anything and kill anyone to get it. He can not be trusted, and nor can he be relied upon for any aid unless he reaps a majority of the benefits."

"And what do you know of _him_, Jasmine? Do you think he was always this way? Do you think as a child he wanted nothing more than to be a sovereign prince of whatever nation Destane no doubt _stole _him from? Do you think he chose this path on his own? Not everyone's destiny is as bright and limned in goodness as your own, Jasmine."

"But he defeated Destane. He could have chosen another route." Nadja looked sad then, and she kept her gaze on the sorcerer who had entered a sleep so deep she assumed he had not slept peacefully in ages.

"When the serpent of bondage has held you so long, sometimes it becomes a comfort—so much that when the serpent dies, you are left bereft of purpose and long for the suffocation once more." Jasmine could not understand.

"He could have returned to his homeland."

"Provided there was a homeland to return to, or if he would even be welcomed back with open arms. You judge your most competent adversaries by the deeds they have done to you, by the deeds you believe they will do to others. But have you ever thought what drove them to be who they are now?" Jasmine began to understand, as a tiny facet of the situation made itself clear to the princess. The way Mozenrath looked at Nadja, the way Nadja looked at him. Perhaps at some point in time, they had crossed the boundary of contractor and assassin, and Mozenrath had mentioned a _kiss_. Jasmine spoke, but she pitched her voice low so that only Nadja could hear.

"You care about him, don't you?" She asked, but it was more a statement than an inquest as to the nature of Nadja and Mozenrath's relationship. Nadja's dark gaze siphoned to the woman and Jasmine was surprised to see the cuts healing clean, the dried blood flaking away to reveal the smooth, dark-brown flesh beneath.

"I would not call it caring so much as I would call it a mutual understanding of one another's natures." She thought for a moment. "I discovered a journal in his library, and upon finishing the tome, I realized who I was working for." She did not say anything more, and instead lifted herself from the wall and stretched. "We should rest. When the lava recedes, we will make for the other side. Perhaps we will find actual inhabitants in these Heartlands." Jasmine wanted to inquire more as to what sort of journal Nadja had perused in Mozenrath's extensive library, but she saw that the Nubian was not inclined to share.

She did not know why, but she felt a certain sense of jealousy that someone whose neutrally evil nature could defend such a blatantly evil man, that they shared something that she and Aladdin did despite being what they were—and yet neither of them regretted anything they had done to harm her or her friends, and Nadja did not even mourn her fallen comrades. It was new for her to be stuck with truly, unsavory people. Thieves, beggars, and mercenaries, yes—she could hold her own against such ordinary men. But this was an assassin whose call name was so legendary that the stories surrounding it seemed to ride the very winds of the divine for all the speed in which they traveled…and a sorcerer with a heart as black as the land he ruled, and intentions ever blacker. Jasmine would let those two rest, but she could not sleep a wink around those two. One armed with as many blades as there were quills upon a porcupine, and the other who thirsted for a Gauntlet the assassin held captive as leverage. It would be a long journey until they could find safety enough to cast a spell that would send them home.

And then she thought, where would Nadja go? Where had she been summoned from? Jasmine wondered how much the Adder had at stake in all of this. Jasmine wanted to return to Agrabah, restore peace to the land alongside her friends, and marry the man she had fallen in love with as a teenager, and Mozenrath wished to return to the Land of the Black Sand, and resume his endless plotting to conquer the Seven Deserts and continue the vicious cycle he had begun when he first met Aladdin in the streets of Agrabah.

But where did that leave the Adder? Her companions were dead. Had that serpent of bondage she mentioned finally died and left her feeling bereft of purpose? Is that why she was in no hurry to escape this harsh world? Jasmine followed the Nubian to the back of the cave, settling down next to her as she slept between her and Mozenrath, and she caught her first glimpse of what Nadja had spoken of. In sleep, Mozenrath looked far less sinister than he did when he was wide awake and fully in control. His lips had always been so full and tempting, as if they had been meant for kissing, slightly parted as he enjoyed his slumber. His headdress had been lost in the tumble through the portal, and she found that his hair was like fine, black satin, bound at his nape and shimmering like someone had caught the stars in a net. A few locks fell over his face, painting him in Botticelli innocence that she knew he no longer could lay claim to. He was beautiful, and perhaps at one point he had the chance to be a good man. She wondered briefly if the Gauntlet had changed his mind, had swayed him to the insane path to endless power. Nadja slept as well, and she looked as beautiful as she did when awake, her eyes shut, her mouth open, and her breathing soundless. Jasmine knew the Adder cared for Mozenrath more than she would ever admit, and the princess found that she was worried if such a union were possible. Nadja had—with but a word and a parting of her thighs—swayed the most influential men of the Seven Deserts to ally themselves with Mozenrath for various reasons. Her comrades had merely provided a common reason as to why they needed to do so _quickly_. She had pulled a Machiavellian scheme that had nearly destroyed the peace in the lands, and would have evil barking at Agrabah's gates. They had stopped it before it reached her kingdom, but Dastan was dead and Madina was bereft of a ruler. Whether Nadja had succeeded or no, she had left chaos in her wake.

If she and Mozenrath were paired together, they would be unstoppable. Jasmine did not want this to happen, love or no love. She had to find a way to contact Aladdin or Genie that she may tell them to help restore order.

And she remembered that the _Immortalis _had been left in her world, and she began to weep silently. They had proven too much for even the _Viperinae _to handle, and Mozenrath had shown that the reins of control had not even been in his hands when they appeared. They could have leveled the Seven Deserts to be naught but a wasteland by now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nadja had not helped by saying she had never been able to find a weakness suitable in killing them off permanently, but Jasmine remembered the lore surrounding both groups. She wondered if she could contact their…their _god _to snatch them back and return them to whatever world it is they came from. An absurd idea, but she knew Mozenrath would agree to it, because the _Immortalis _were as much a threat to him as they were to her.

_Better the devil you know, over the serpent you don't._

_In this darkness,__** troubled **__ water._

_Lies a flicker, of __**hope's fire**__._

_**Come to your senses**__._

_Wager __**a risk**__._

_**Waiting for this**__…it's wonderful...reality._

_I watch as this golden bird __**flies free**__._

The lava receded when the sun finally set that day, and Mozenrath roused himself with hopes that he had risen before his unlikely comrades. He did not have so much luck, as Nadja and Jasmine were already waiting at the mouth of the cave. Beyond it was a sheet of whipping snow flurries. Grasping his cape and dusting it off he joined them.

"Well, ladies, we wouldn't want to freeze to death, would you?" Mozenrath was nothing short of mocking, and while Nadja ignored his rudeness, Jasmine snatched the cape from him and tied it around her scantily clad form. Nadja was watching the lava recede into the darkness, and she noticed that not a single drop of it cooled in the coming blizzard. _Cursed, indeed_.

"Come on. Let's not waste time." Before Nadja moved, Jasmine grabbed her arm.

"Are you sure we can escape on the other side? I mean, you said yourself you didn't survive this place." Nadja glanced to Mozenrath.

"He loves himself too much to lie about that. Aside, I said I did not survive…but that was the first time." Nadja stepped out onto the ledge, glancing up into the sky where snow fell in torrents, and she couldn't even make out the mountain's peak. Mozenrath and Jasmine were waiting.

"You're right, I'm not lying, but I've never been to this place either. I've only read about it." Jasmine's face took on the mask of stone. The two treacherous villains were just full of comforting news lately, what with the _Immortalis _being invincible, the Seven Desert realms falling into chaos, and them being trapped in a land that was cursed to feel the wrath of fire and ice throughout the day and night.

Fantastic.

As they made the treacherous climb, each were faced with a decision that they would have to work together if they wanted to survive. They needed Nadja's physical prowess, and Mozenrath's magic, and Jasmine's level-headed wits to see them through. Mozenrath and Nadja were accustomed to working alone, and though no one in the group trusted one another, so far, there had been no attempts to cleave the tentative triumvirate apart. Things, for lack of a better word, were looking up.

That was, until they reached the peak. The ledge that allowed them a bird's eye view of the surrounding lands was steep, and it felt uneasy even beneath the agile feet of the assassin. Jasmine wavered once, pressing her hand against the icy wall to balance. She was about to teeter forward when a steely embrace pulled her back. Nadja smiled.

"Careful, princess. You've not yet provided an heir to your throne." She warned, but there was a dark humor in her eyes. Jasmine was unsure of whether Nadja was speaking in jest or was seriously concerned about her safety. Jasmine could think of no reason the Nubian viper would keep her around other than as leverage for when she returned to Agrabah—assuming she returned to the Seven Deserts at all. Mozenrath snorted.

"While you two bond, I'm going to head down to where the grass truly is greener." Nadja shot him a look that veritably pinned him in his tracks.

"And without that precious Gauntlet, you will be stuck wandering Amoria and you can abandon conquest for the rest of your…_natural _life." Indicating she knew of his stint with the Elixir of Life during his attempt to escape the clutches of the Reaper, she saw the look of clarity in the sorcerer's dark eyes. Jasmine looked down and made out fields of wheat, and grassy knolls, and nothing but _life _for miles ahead. But the climb down promised nothing short of sudden death. Nadja crouched easily, compacting herself against the wall.

"Time to make our way down. I'll go first…you can follow if you wish." Nadja maneuvered until she could hang from the ledge, searching for a foothold. Finding one, she released one hand to find a handhold. The ridges were slick with ice so she took her time.

"This would go by quicker if I had the Gauntlet, Adder." Mozenrath was leaning over her, and the look on his face was one that must have come over Judas when he betrayed Jesus, one that came over the senators when they betrayed Caesar, and finally…the look he wore when he summoned the _Immortalis _to do away with her and her comrades. Nadja refused to give him the chance to betray her again.

Fool me once…

"Nadja!" Jasmine cried out as the Nubian began to let herself fall.

"I'll meet you at the bottom, Mozenrath!" Nadja called in a cackle as she pulled the Gauntlet from her pouch and with purpose, slipped it onto her right hand.

"NO!" Mozenrath cried as blue magic engulfed the Adder, suspending her as she fixed him with a gaze that had been wiped clean, her eyes glowing blue. Pointing her gloved finger at the sorcerer, she drew him toward her.

"You are right! This will be quicker!" Mozenrath struggled futilely against the force of magic that pulled him. Jasmine was next, but she did not struggle. The Nubian relished the thrill of power that shot up her arm and into her head, making her feel as if she were limitless—as if she were a _god_.

Now she was beginning to understand Mozenrath's insatiable thirst for power.

As she guided them down the mountain, she felt as if she were drifting out of her body, as if she had had too strong a drink and was dreaming and watching herself dream. She barely noticed when they touched the grassy ground, falling to her knees and quaking from the pleasure that had overcome her when she first put the Gauntlet on.

"What's wrong with her?" Jasmine demanded, grabbing Mozenrath by the scruff of his neck. The wizard merely smirked and jerked his head in the Adder's direction.

"She is drunk with power, princess. Although, I don't expect you to know what it feels like, having been trapped and powerless all your life." Nadja looked up, her eyes bright with pleasure before she wrenched the Gauntlet from her arm.

"Ah!" She cried, flinging it away from her. Mozenrath made an attempt for it, but Jasmine tripped him and snatched it up instead.

"I think it's safe with me. The two of you seem to have no qualms with hurting yourselves and other people for the sake of self-preservation." She said evenly. Nadja was unlacing the dragon's hide vambrace on her arm to scratch at the skin beneath.

"And where do you plan to keep it, Jasmine?" She asked tersely, rubbing the skin which had already been leeched of some of its color. Luckily, she had pulled the cursed thing off before it could eat away at the flesh. Jasmine frowned. "Away from the two of you, and that's all you need to know." Nadja chuckled at that, and even Mozenrath smiled.

"I still want to know _where _she's going to keep it, if not on her arm." Nadja shoved him once and began to redo her vambrace after rubbing the valerian salve upon her arm to heal the minor damage done. Climbing to her feet, she breathed deep the scent of flowers and wheat, and sighed.

"There must be a village or town nearby. We need food and shelter."

"Sure this place won't flood with lava when the sun rises?" Nadja pointed to the sky which was clear, dotted with stars and limned with the silver, unblemished light of a half-moon. Jasmine smiled. The snow clouds stopped abruptly where the mountain range began. The trio began to trek toward the direction civilization must have been.

"Mozenrath, if you have the Gauntlet, would you even be able to cast the spell to open the portal back home?" Jasmine asked as they walked. Mozenrath was surprisingly calm and void of his usual arrogance. In the light of moon and stars, it was easy to tell the group was a mess. Their hair was disheveled, their clothes tattered and dingy, their skin caked with dirt and grime, and they smelled of toil, sweat, and exhaustion.

"Perhaps," he said softly, "but that depends on where the portal leads. I don't know how far Amoria is removed from our plane of reality, and it took most of my energy to summon the serpents and shadows as it is, and the portal that led here…a portal back would take an awful amount of magic." Nadja adjusted one of the blades behind her thighs uncomfortably before she responded.

"Perhaps this realm has something that amplifies magic."

"Like the Crystal of Ix?" Jasmine inquired. Mozenrath had to smile. Those were good times, but they would have been better had he actually _succeeded _in capturing Aladdin's precious _Djini _instead of failing miserably. _Ixtala_.

"Well, yes, I suppose…" Nadja did not know what the Crystal of Ix was, but she assumed it operated the same way she was thinking of, "But I was thinking perhaps that crystal on your head." Jasmine fingered the large blue diamond on her headband. "That'd fetch a pretty penny on the Black Market," The Nubian remarked slyly and Jasmine narrowed her eyes.

"It was my mother's. It's an heirloom, and I intend to keep it that way." Nadja shrugged.

"Your mother gives you diamonds; my mother gave me away to a god. To each their own." The woman remarked almost blithely. Mozenrath chuckled.

"You two have such easy lives it's almost disgusting," he almost spat to punctuate his opinion, "but I should expect nothing less from two bullheaded women." Both Jasmine and Nadja pinned him with a glower and he held up his hands.

"Hey now, if we're all entitled to speak our minds on this little escapade, then I shouldn't be exempt from the rule—right?" Jasmine and Nadja ignored him, walking ahead side by side. Mozenrath rolled his eyes. As the women wandered out of earshot along the worn dirt pathway, Jasmine spoke her mind truly, then.

"Are you going to tell him how you feel?" She asked. Nadja's brows rose, feigning ignorance. "And what exactly am I supposed to tell him, princess?" She asked coolly. Jasmine fingered the Gauntlet, noting how worn the leather was, and yet so tattered an item held such corruptible power.

"You care about him. I can see it. You want him to aban—" Nadja held up her hands and stopped walking.

"Princess, when I was his age, I may have thought that. I am too old for such trivial nonsense. He is my enemy, you are my enemy, and I am and enemy to you both. Right now, we are at a tentative truce. The moment this truce dissolves I won't hesitate to take your lives. His, especially."

"Because he killed your friends, right?" Jasmine prodded, knowing she was treading dangerous ground. Nadja drew back. "Yes."

"Or was it because he led you on and then betrayed you? He hurt you when he did that, right?" Nadja realized Jasmine was looking for something besides a confession to the burgeoning feelings the Adder was infected with in regards to the sorcerer who was closing the distance by now. "He betrayed me and I expected it. I just had not expected it so soon. He would have betrayed me on the mountain had I not put on the Gauntlet. He is more treacherous than I could ever aspire to be." Jasmine shook her head.

"But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt to be betrayed. How could you be so uncaring when someone whose home you made your own for six months betrayed you without reason other than because he saw you as little more than a liability? You could have killed him at any time and yet it was he who betrayed you first." Nadja did not respond, and for good reason as Mozenrath had shouldered his way between the women.

"So is this what you and that cumbersome street rat of yours do in your spare time? Go out and attempt to risk your lives for no reason?" He asked Jasmine. Jasmine pursed her lips.

"Not for no reason. Usually you or someone like you is trying yet again to take over Agrabah." Mozenrath draped his skeletal arm around her slender shoulders, flexing his skinless fingers purposely to disgust her.

"Like me? Ahahaha…princess I am the Lord of the Black Sand; there is **no one like**_ me_. I'm afraid that I am a…how do you say…_diamond in the rough_?" At those words Jasmine snapped and shoved him away, causing him to run into Nadja, who stopped him at arm's length.

"You keep running that mouth of yours, Mozenrath, and I'll make your body match that arm of yours." Mozenrath's lip curled and she returned the look with a passive stare that said she was either bluffing or deadly serious. The trouble with Nadja was that no one could readily say.

"Still so bitter, Nadja? It was just betrayal…it wasn't like we'd slept together and I'd fed you to the wolves the following morning."

"I should make a bowl out of your skull." Was the Adder's response and Mozenrath smiled. With fatigue beginning to take its toll on the group, he was claiming these tiny victories, hoarding them away in the rear of his agile mind. While they despaired and searched for an escape, he was becoming likened to the ocean, and they were rocks, being whittled away with each caustic barb that crashed upon the delicate surface of their facades. Mozenrath would soon be able to swipe the Gauntlet and escape from Amoria, leaving these two women either dead or with no escape of their own. By the time the dirt path became an incline, and they crested a tree-lined path overlooking a village, the moon had vanished behind a wisp of cloud. Jasmine looked around. "There's smoke coming from the chimneys, and I hear people. Let's hope they don't know either of you here." She jabbed at both Mozenrath and Nadja. Mozenrath snorted, Nadja did not seem to readily care.

"Good," she said, "we should find some place to stay…and get clean clothes, at least." Nadja followed Jasmine down the hill and Mozenrath fell into step behind them. He was watching the Gauntlet, which hung like a tempting lure on calm waters from Jasmine's hip. He had never notice how incredibly delicate she was. After seeing Nadja naked in the Waters for so long, he was used to a woman built for speed and danger. Jasmine exuded 'palace living' from every delicate curve that molded her brown body. Even her style of dress whenever he saw her was usually that same blue get-up that revealed far too much and at the same time, left much to the imagination. Her hair, although disheveled, barely managed to stay bound. Wild, black, hair that fell to her small hips like living umbra, and the crown jewel (quite literally) sparkled amidst the mass as if dirt and grime could not touch it. Mozenrath noted that both women were vastly different but each had something he_ wanted_.

With Nadja, he could not readily name it, but with Jasmine, it was obvious. He realized—with disgust—how much like Destane he truly had become. With Jasmine, he not only wanted his Gauntlet back, but he found a part of himself wanted to ruin her—her purity, that sacred chastity that Aladdin was too noble to impugn upon—he wanted to tear it from her, meticulously put it back together, and tear it apart again. He knew spells capable of such feats, and he entertained them in his darker thoughts as they approached the village.

With Nadja, _ah_! Allah forbid he speak those desires aloud.

He wanted her to yield, wanted to see her face when she did, wanted her to meet her match in him—her god, her _executioner_. He wanted to kill her, and he wanted her, and he wanted to kill her, bring her back, rape her of all that foolish pride, break her down to her very foundations and rebuild her the way he saw fit, only to break her again. Nadja called to a desire in his blood that was both profane and passionate. He wanted to know what she _felt _like, wanted to see her scream in pain, wanted to see her legs wrapped around his waist…or neck, her lips wrapped around his—

"Halt!" The voice came from none of them, and as Mozenrath looked up, drawn from the muggy haze of his fantasies by a guard who stood like an obstinate blockade at the village's gate. The sorcerer would have destroyed him for his audacity to block him had he the Gauntlet at his beck and call. Instead, he was forced to be…to be _humble_. The man towered over the three travelers like a wall, standing at least near seven feet, with a thick, yellow beard braided and tipped with golden clasps, and a studded helmet atop his head with curved horns protruding from either side. In his right hand he held a halberd, and in his left a shield that could cover both Nadja and Jasmine, and perhaps even Mozenrath, given his diminished physique. When he stole a glance to Nadja, he saw her biceps flex, unsheathing a hairline of steel in the even that they would be forced to do battle, Mozenrath hid his skeletal hand for the sake of having less questioning looks thrown his way.

"You came from the Hinterlands," the large guard said, "how is this possible? What manner of creature are you to have survived the _geis_?" Before Nadja or Mozenrath could act, it was Jasmine who spoke on their behalf.

"Yes, we did. But we managed to survive by climbing the mountain before the curse could get to us. Please, sir, we only seek food and shelter for the night. We are trying to figure out how to get back home." Nadja did not sheath the steel that was bared behind her arms, and Mozenrath wondered is Jasmine's pacifist nature would appeal to the barbarian standing in their way. The barbarian leaned over to regard them, yellow brows furrowed in blatant scrutiny.

"Such dark-looking creatures, but I can see you are road-weary. You may pass, but I will speak with the village elder regarding your coming…and your going." With that, the way was clear, Nadja sheathed her blades, and Mozenrath breathed a sigh of what he swore was relief. As they followed the guard into the village, Nadja chuckled.

"Nice work, princess. I didn't think you had it in you to take the lead for once."

"You obviously haven't been around her long enough. She's saved her pitiably little kingdom quite a few times." Mozenrath conceded with a roll of his eyes. Jasmine smirked, for once taking a smug look that she had at least managed to win the respect of the Adder, who seemed to respect nothing but the steel she wielded, and even Mozenrath had admitted to defeat, albeit it not in so many words.

Perhaps this camaraderie had been a good career move on both their parts. As the princess saw Nadja swipe an apple from a cart with a speed that was better-suited to a viper, she sighed.

There was work to be done yet.


	10. The Passage of Time

**Author's Note:** Well, the chapters are bound to get longer and I gravitate from action-oriented scenes to introspective ones. I love introspective scenes, don't you? Yes, readers, the story has many twists and turns, none of which I have pre-planned. Depending on how the previous chapters end, sets the stage for future chapters. So even I don't know what the characters will do or say when I write. It comes, I just write it down. As always, read and **review**. The Silent Reader epidemic is soooo not cool, guys. I want your thoughts on the story thus far! ^.^

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_He hides there __**waiting all night**__, with legs crossed over Asian style._

_Her phone's been ringing __**at odd hours**__; she's planting __**sacred lotus flowers**__._

_Only on a sure return could you find that __**you never left what's missing**__._

_Counting on a predictable tide for __**deliverance**__—it's right in front you!_

_Scouring the countryside just to find that the __**enemy's within your self**__._

_I've been __**waiting for you**__._

"These travelers are strange, Rothgar," the old man was a gray-bearded elder who sat upon an ornate throne carved of wood and decorated with the bones and teeth of what the trio assumed to be large, dangerous beasts. He was dressed in animal skin, and as he leaned forward, he examined the three of them, his gaze lingering on Mozenrath.

"For a woman, she is quite skinny. I suppose they could stay until they are properly recuperated—perhaps get some color in those cheeks of yours." Mozenrath looked around, obviously perplexed. A look from Nadja told him it would be wise to play along. The less they provoked these giants-amongst-men, the easier their stay would be. Mozenrath fumed beneath his skin, blood rising to color his cheeks and the elder laughed.

"She blushes! Haha! Well there may be hope for you yet! Give them rooms at the inn, and a hearty meal will see them looking healthy again. I shall speak with them on the morrow when they've the strength to talk and appear more respectable than they do now." He waved his hand, and the trio was escorted out. Nadja and Jasmine burst into laughter. Mozenrath sneered.

"The old man needs his eyes checked…or gouged out. How can one even assume I'm female? And he was three feet from me! I could smell it!" Nadja and Jasmine shrugged, obviously reserving whatever jesting remarks they had for a later time.

"Maybe if you scrubbed up, put some meat on your bones and some…" Jasmine began to laugh, "…color in your cheeks, you wouldn't be mistaken for female." Mozenrath wanted to throttle both women, but inwardly he was laughing. He supposed it was better to be considered a pretty female than an ugly male. He may have been thirsty for power, but he was at least meticulous with his appearance. As they were led to the inn, Rothgar transferred them into the care of the couple who owned the establishment. The woman was large and heavyset, with yellow hair and summer blue eyes. She wrinkled her nose and spoke in jest.

"You two smell like a dead ram. Come in, we'll get you cleaned up." Nadja, seemingly used to this reaction on her own journeys, followed the couple inside along with Jasmine and Mozenrath. The interior was as warm and inviting as the three assumed it would be, with a cheery fire burning by the hearth, and a polished wooden floor with tables set up. The downstairs must have been a tavern, and the steps led upstairs to the rooms they'd be staying in. They followed the couple upstairs, and each were given a room as well as a large basin of hot water to bathe in.

"We'll bring up some fresh clothes, although the three of you are so scrawny I doubt we've anything in your size." Nadja narrowed her eyes as she noticed that the other rooms were vacant as well. Dismissing the notion that something was wrong, she assumed that due to the curse on the Hinterlands, visitors were few and far between—if at all. As each of the trio entered their rooms, Mozenrath began to undress, taking his shirt off to the gasp of the innkeeper.

"Goodness me, you're a man!" She exclaimed and Mozenrath gave her a tight smile, before he sneered.

"Would I be anything else?" The woman didn't respond, instead she slammed the door shut and he heard her fumbling down the steps in an obvious panic. Mozenrath's brows furrowed, finding her behavior odd, but he thought nothing of it.

_Sun been __**down for days**__, a pretty flower in a vase._

_A slipper by the fireplace, a cello lying __**in its case**__._

_Soon she's down the stairs, __**her morning elegance**__, she wears…_

…_the __**sound of water makes her dream**__ awoken by a cloud of steam._

_She __**pours her daydream**__ in a cup; a spoon of sugar __**sweetens up**__._

Nadja was glancing at the water after her bath. She had used it first to bath, then to wash her clothes, which hung by the window to dry. The water had turned black and she shook her head. She was truly getting too old for this. There was a soft knock at her door and she tightened the absorbing sheet about her before going for a blade and heading to the door.

"Yes?" She called.

"It's me, we need to talk." Mozenrath's voice was commanding even when thick wood separated them from each other's sight. Nadja opened the door to let the sorcerer.

"Something is very wrong with this place." He said resolutely and Nadja lowered her hand from behind her back, revealing the blade she'd taken up. Mozenrath chuckled.

"I take it you got that vibe as well?" Nadja gave him a tight and cold smile.

"No. This is just protocol for any new and strange world I find myself in. Why do you think something is wrong with this place?" She asked him, hoping that Jasmine too did not share this strange sense that there was something inherently _off _in this village. Surrounded by a cursed mountain range, one would think they would want to get as far from the Hinterlands as possible…

…could they even leave? Nadja hated this already. Mozenrath watched the changes on her countenance like the changing of the seasons. He smiled.

"I don't suppose you could set aside that silly grudge and realize that when the fat lady saw I was indeed a man, she took off as if she'd seen a ghost." Nadja raised a brow.

"Honestly, with your hand exposed thusly, I would have done the same thing in her position." Mozenrath's lip curled as Nadja made her way further into the room to the table where she'd laid out her arsenal, down to the tiny blades she hid inside of her mouth. Mozenrath followed, wearing little more than a tunic the woman had brought him that was too large, and some pants that had no doubt belonged to a younger man—mayhap a child—and a pair of fur-lined boots. Nadja noted he looked extremely out of place. This darkling sorcerer-prince looked so strange in those animal-skin clothes, with his damp, black hair bound at his nape, his pale skin slightly flushed with color, and he had found a glove to cover the skeletal hand that had cut her face. Mozenrath noticed her wounds had healed clean.

"I'm serious, Nadja," He said, reached to run his bared fingertips over the length of an exposed steel blade. The steel was as cold as her heart, and he smiled to himself. "There is something wrong with this place. I never read of any village beyond the Hinterlands. I never read of _any _life beyond the Hinterlands. Less dangerous, yes, but nothing of the indigenous people."

"I know, I know," The Adder said irritably, "but we have to take what we can—information and supplies—and get out of here as soon as possible. We can't rush out without knowing what lies ahead."

"That's assuming _they _even know what lies ahead. Why would anyone want to live in the shadow of cursed mountains? I need the Gauntlet. You and Jasmine may be able to rely on physical prowess, but I am the one who has extensive knowledge of magic."

"And betrayal."

The word hung between them, sounding both furious and wounded in the same breath. Mozenrath did not respond, his face schooled to calm as neither of them looked away from their accusatory gazes. "Yes. But that has to be forgotten in light of our recent situation. Nadja, I didn't have a choice. You said yourself when I first summoned you that you would have no qualms betraying me should someone pay better."

"And I told you the price we demand—_demanded_—was not always coin. What could the other sultans of the Seven Deserts offer me other than a bunch of useless gold and jewels?" There was more, Mozenrath could feel it hovering at the heels of that inquest like a hummingbird seeking the nectar of a fresh-bloomed flower. He could taste it, the unspoken question.

"I could not afford any liabilities. The legends never lacked for reminding me how treacherous you could be—price or no price. Should I succeed in my conquest, what would you have done? What price would you and your comrades asked of me before you quietly slipped off to whatever world you were summoned for?" Nadja did not respond.

"We would have asked for the Gauntlet. We would have asked for the one item with which you could not bring yourself to part from. Even now, I can see the separation is excruciating. To think, so small an item commands you like a puppeteer to a puppet. You fancy yourself in control, and now the _Immortalis _run free in your world." Mozenrath stepped close to her, pressing her against the table before he felt cold steel at his throat.

"Do not think your treachery is so easily forgotten sorcerer. I nigh succumbed to your seductions once. I will not ere thusly again." She said, her voice suffused with ice that settled on his skin like wind over a fresh grave. He leaned forward, pressing the steel into his throat until a trickle of crimson leaked from the wound.

"Do it, Nadja. Have your vengeance. If you think I am trying to _seduce _you, then you need to shake that notion. Has a man ever wanted you for what you truly are, Adder? Or have you always worn a mask?" At what point did the mask consume its wearer? Nadja's hand shook as she tried to force herself to press the blade into his throat. She found that she could not for she stayed her own hand. The blade clattered on the floor between them, as useless as the gold and jewels she so casually dismissed earlier. Mozenrath smirked.

"Why can't you do it, Nadja? Why can't you bring yourself to claim your rightful vengeance?" Nadja averted her gaze. She should have been able to. It should have been _that _simple to cut his throat—especially after realizing how easy it had been for her to use the Gauntlet. Mozenrath cupped her face in his hands and claimed her mouth for the second time. The first time they had been forced to stay their own steps, relinquishing one another to their respective places as contractor and assassin—but they were lost in another world, and no longer bound by contract or boundaries that prevented her from _relishing _this.

His kiss was like ice, and she was like fire, hissing and steaming beneath the rain as he doused the flame of her suppressed desire. It always started this way, for one so accustomed to the passions of men being guided by her whim, but never had Nadja been led into the vice of lust _blind_. She did not know what to expect from the sorcerer as his lips took in the scent and taste of her, traveling along the sleek line of her jaw, down her arched throat, and lingering as it vibrated with a soft groan of pleasure. Mozenrath's gloved hand took a grip on her hip beneath the silk absorbing sheet before his lips found her pulse which thumped beneath his smiling lips like a fever cadence. Her blood leapt to meet his touch, her pulse leapt with each feather's weight kiss he left upon her skin, the steam hissing as fire became doused in water and ice. Nadja had never felt so…helpless.

It didn't end there…and she hoped it wouldn't.

By the time the moon had reappeared, the two had let themselves be consumed by passion, with Nadja struggling to regain her dominance, and Mozenrath quelling her insecurities with his own knowledge. She had thought him inexperienced, but she should have expected nothing less of the sorcerer. Like when his fingertips strayed along her bared skin as if searching for _buttons _to push, grazing her inner thighs until he could feel the heat radiating from the apex between them. She fought valiantly, he would give her that, but in the end, he showed her that surrendering to a man had its benefits. Whoever moved first was Fate's decision, and the tow came together in unison amidst the cushioning support of feather-stuffed pillows and fur-lined blankets. Nadja found he responded like a perfectly tuned harp to her ministrations, and it brought her pleasure when he grew tired of her teasing and consumed her once more.

They moved like it was predestined, and she moved for him, while he moved for her. He smothered the worshipping plea of her cries with his gloved hand over her mouth, while he moved her world at a pace that had her flickering like a wickless flame in his coaxing breeze. Together, they resituated with a lewd and raunchy ease, coming together as many times as they could garner strength, in as many ways that could bring them pleasure—forceful and consuming to both of them.

The sun was beginning to rise as the two lay entangled, reclining in a well-earned languor that had them both smiling, as finally—finally!—they had crossed the boundaries that had held them from one another. Nadja's head found an easy recline against his shoulder, while her fingers scooped up a handful of his wild, black hair, testing her long-ago theory of how it wove between her fingers like ink. She sighed, and Mozenrath chuckled, running her bared fingertips over her sweat-slick shoulder as the two gazed into a space beyond the high ceiling.

"Was that so hard?" He asked the Nubian, his voice limned in languor, yet underneath was the smug mien of the sorcerer claiming this milestone victory that had been destined since the day he first lay eyes on the serpent. Nadja laughed.

"A lot harder than you can imagine," she responded, her voice losing its edge and taking on a gentler tone. Mozenrath turned his head, his lips brushing her forehead as an urgent knock sobered them from their shared reverie in the passion-scented air. Nadja rolled from the bed and gathered her now-dried clothing, settling her blades and straps to their respective places and Mozenrath saw how she situated the razors in her mouth, pressing them against the inside of her cheeks before she moved her lower jaw to assure they were secured. When she was fully dressed, she answered the door. It was Jasmine.

"You should see this. I knew something was wrong with this place but…" Jasmine looked as if she would die of fright. Mozenrath clothed himself and came to join the Adder in the doorway. Nadja stepped into the hallway and the trio went to the steps. From the top landing, Nadja could make out the problem.

It was too quiet.

As they crept down the stairs, Nadja saw then what was wrong. Everyone in the tavern was frozen solid in stone. It appeared as if the curse of the Hinterlands was not the only curse that ailed this place. The innkeeper was locked in a silent wave to a patron who had just recently passed through the door, frozen in his stride.

"It's like this _everywhere_," Jasmine said, as they passed outside to see the entire village had been turned to stone. "I thought something was wrong when they told me the village had been here for thousands of years and they remembered its inception. This curse must have been here for a lot longer than they have." The stone-curse must have been preserving the villagers. Nadja pursed her lips. "I don't suppose it would be too much to hope that the horses at least still live." Jasmine shook her head.

"Everything in this village is turned to stone. But I managed to gather some food in case you wanted to get out of here before nightfall." Nadja nodded. She suddenly regretted losing herself to her passions with Mozenrath while the princess had never once lost her good sense. She was determined to get home, and Nadja just wanted to get out of this world. Mozenrath said nothing in response to the sound reasoning, and did not even suggest giving him the Gauntlet to make their journey that much easier, but his desire for the magically-cursed item showed in the subtle flex of his gloved hand.

"Well, I suppose we could head out. Perhaps the curse is only here. But we will need horses to make this easier." That was when Mozenrath suggested it.

"We can't trust you with the Gauntlet," Jasmine retorted but it was Nadja who stepped in on his behalf. "We have no choice at this point, Princess." Jasmine's eyes widened and she glanced between the two, not understanding what had brought on this change of heart.

"Give him the Gauntlet. If he steps out of line, I will kill him. Agreed?" Jasmine didn't think Nadja would kill him, but she conceded, wary that perhaps the two had decided to come together to get rid of her. But the look in Nadja's eyes did not seem to be that of potential betrayal. It was too ambiguous, but the princess had no choice. The trek on foot could prove to be harder than if aided by magic. As she unclasped the Gauntlet from her hip and handed it to Mozenrath, Nadja flexed her arms, unsheathing an inch of steel. Mozenrath took the Gauntlet, almost too eager than he wanted, then he removed the plain glove, and slipped the Gauntlet onto his skeletal hand. Almost immediately, he laughed.

It felt so good to be _back_. For a moment, he looked between the princess and the assassin, and both looked at him as if expecting him to betray them both. Admittedly, he wanted to, but he may need them later.

"I'm not doing anything, see?" He waved his hand, now reunited with the Gauntlet and smiled. Nadja kept her eyes on his, and Jasmine was ready to tackle the sorcerer at a moment's notice. Mozenrath sighed, exasperated.

"After all we've been through the past few days you think I've the energy to betray anyone right now?"

"Yes." The two women responded in unison and Mozenrath's brows rose in surprise. He had not expected them to respond without at least deliberating first. However, in light of his history with both women, he could see why they'd be unanimous in that decision. Nadja shoved him forward.

"Well, sorcerer. Conjure us some transportation. Jasmine and I can pilfer this place for anything that could be useful." As the trip split up to search the village, Mozenrath considered his options. He could have abandoned both women, but in light of what had happened between himself and the Adder, he found that leaving would be harder, as if some unseen inextricable chain bound him to both women, weighing the untamable wings of his spirit to be ground until they saw fit to strike him free. When Nadja returned she had gathered a weapon for each of them, as well as three quivers full of arrows and the smallest bows she could find. Mozenrath had conjured three black steeds, saddled and bridled and equipped with saddlebags for the journey. Nadja smiled at him and for the first time he felt discomfort in the limelight of her attention—however brief it may have been. As the Nubian secured supplies, Jasmine came with all the nonperishable food she could find consisting of dried meats and fruits, herbs for flavoring, and waterskins. Swinging gracefully into the saddle of the nearest horse, she pulled up the hood of her borrowed cloak and tossed Mozenrath a wrapped bundle.

"They at least had the decency to wash our clothes for us." She remarked as Mozenrath peeled away the tightly-bounded skin to reveal the dark blue clothes within. He placed the bundle within a saddlebag and mounted the horse. Nadja vaulted into the saddle and took up the reins.

"The day is going to go by quickly. We'd better cover as much ground as we can before night falls…who knows what may happen then." As the three spurred their mystical mounts into a steady canter out of the village, Nadja was aware that there was more to this curse than stone villagers, lava flooding the Hinterlands, and a strange sense of eerie silence by day, and biting cold and howling winds by night. Something was seriously wrong with this place and unless they found a way out, they may very well have become part of this vicious cycle that cursed them. Jasmine did not remark upon the knowledge that she knew of whatever had transpired between the sorcerer and the assassin, keeping her own counsel for now. She let the two underestimate her to a fault, as it played to her strengths. She was not as naïve and sheltered as they would believe, and Mozenrath should have known better than to make such base assumptions. Nadja, she could excuse, as the woman judged her based on appearance and words alone. She had proven herself countless times to Aladdin and the others that she could hold her own in battle and save her own kingdom without the aid of a man.

Aladdin…ah! She wondered where he was, if he was searching for a way to find her, just as she longed to find him. Homesickness had a strange way of manifesting at the most inopportune moments and she reached up to wipe a stray tear from her eye and sniffled, hoping she could blame the chill of the air for her condition and not the fact that she longed for the love of her life to come and rescue her—as he always had. Now, it seemed as if she were cut off from everything she knew and held dear, forced to rescue herself the entire way. Carpet and Genie were not here to aid her, and the only magic she could depend on was that of the one man who had come so close to destroying everything she loved. The only man who could save her right now was the one who had gotten them into this mess to begin with. She was unsure of whether to feel relieved that he was aiding in this quest, or enraged that it was his fault they were here, and the _Immortalis _ran amuck in their world doing Allah-knows-what. Nadja did not seem inclined to share where it was she would go should they find a way out of Amoria, but nor did she seem inclined to slow the process of finding a way out. Jasmine assumed she would return to whatever world it was Mozenrath summoned her from…unless things had changed and she would return to the Citadel with the evil sorcerer.

_I shouldn't call him evil. If he were as evil as we all thought, he wouldn't be helping us now. Then again, he's only helping us because it benefits him as well. _With the sorcerer so recently reunited with his precious power, Jasmine was even more wary around him. The Adder's potential for betrayal would probably be far more calculating, exacted only when it was absolutely necessary and beneficial to whatever cause she took up, but Mozenrath had betrayed Nadja because it was convenient and because he _could_. It had not helped him in the end, and had only made matters worse. Now, the three of them were trapped in a cursed realm with none to rely on but one another for survival.

"How is it you came to know about the curse of the Hinterlands, Nadja?" Jasmine asked suddenly as their mounts fell into a steady walk beside one another, though they kept an even distance so as not to rile the steeds' territorial anger. Mozenrath smiled, inwardly guessing at the answer. Thinking she would not relinquish an answer, Jasmine abandoned the question immediately, until Nadja suddenly spoke up, looking ahead between the pricked ears of her mounts head.

"It was one of the many lands I was forced to train in before beginning my trials as one of the _Viperinae_. At first, I thought my lesson was to learn the nature of the curse, and my comrades and I foolishly set out to find the source of the lava. We did not realize the purpose of the training was to teach us that some situations are futile. We all died that day, and learned the price of pursuing the futility of uncovering truths not meant to be discovered."

"That's foolish nonsense," Mozenrath snorted, "what sort of lesson that you must die to learn it in full?" Nadja hazarded a slow, lateral gaze toward the sorcerer.

"You were trained at the hands of one of the most depraved men in your world's history. You should know as well as I that some lessons can only be taught by exacting the ultimate price." Jasmine did not understand how either of them could endure such cruelties for the sake of becoming who and what they were now. So she pried further, seeing as how both were open for the discussion.

"But why did you have to die to learn the lesson? Did searching for the source of the curse not prove the situation futile within itself?" She asked, and Nadja laughed.

"Would that it was so simple to learn the lesson without the blood-price. Let me ask you, princess, say you were on another one of your infamous adventures to save Agrabah from doom and gloom. If one of your party were to die in the process, would you not realize the danger you and your friends put yourselves in? Would you not realize the price of your recklessness…and the source of your father's constant worrying?" At that, Jasmine fell silent, considering it. What if they battled the likes of Mirage, and one of them did not make it out of the ordeal unscathed, or worse yet…alive? What if it had been Aladdin who had been sliced up by Mirage's attacks instead of Genie? What if it had been Iago, or Carpet, or Abu…or _Aladdin_? Jasmine could not fathom what sort of pall would befall their band if one of them was no longer there?

Truly, she was blessed and sheltered…and yet she was not. Jasmine made no more inquiries as to what sort of cruel tutelage Nadja had to endure to become the hardened woman that sat straight-backed in the saddle next to her. Mozenrath chuckled.

"I think you've offended the princess' sensibilities, Adder. Have your social skills waned in this deplorable weather?" He asked and Nadja's brows rose. Jasmine huffed.

"I'm not offended. Just because I'm not used to hearing of such cruelties practiced on people does not mean I'll wilt at the first sign of cruelty." Nadja's gaze siphoned to Jasmine, amusement writ in the lines of her face.

"And you call my dying during a training exercise meant to kill me cruel? You have barely scratched the surface of cruelty. I am sure Mozenrath can regale you with tales of Destane's own methods of instruction. I hear tell they've much more to offer in the realm of _offensive _than anything I could readily bring to memory." Mozenrath's jaw set firmly, an indication that while he was comfortable in the presence of his enemies-turned-allies, he would not share in their open discussions of one another's pasts. Destane was a depraved and morally-corrupt bastard, and when Mozenrath came to power, he became a _dead _depraved, morally-corrupt bastard.

That was all anyone needed to know.

_Two __**white horses**__ in a line, carrying me to my __**burying ground**__._

When night fell, they were leagues from the cursed village of stone, and for all that, they were lost as to where to go. There were leagues of uncharted territory but none of the trio had any idea as to where they could go for assistance in their current quandary. Nadja felt as if she had not slept in some time, and she realized that collectively, she had slept mayhap a few hours in the two days since they had arrived, and her horse clopped on while she dozed in the saddle, eyelids aflutter as she struggled to keep awake.

"If you pass out and fall of your horse, I can assure you I will leave you behind." The voice was so close she could practically feel his breath on her skin and she realized that Mozenrath had brought his mount close to hers, leaning over to whisper in her unsuspecting ears. Lack of sleep had seen normally keen senses dulled, and the whirlwind of events thus far had seen the Adder numbed to the cold that bit at her chafed fingers beneath the suede gloves. Despite it all, she managed a tired smile, but little else. Mozenrath wondered what sort of thoughts dogged her tired mind in that moment—and he knew spells capable of finding out—but he doubted that even at her most exhausted, the Nubian would not allow for a psychic intrusion, least of all from him.

Jasmine, however, was another story entirely. He knew the princess was vulnerable, and she was far too trusting despite her being the one to uncover his plot first. He could permeate her mind with his consciousness like a water soaked into a sponge, which is exactly what he did. He cast the spell, projecting himself into her mind, seeping into her conscious and subconscious like a damp mold forming along the paneling of a wall. Her thoughts flowed in a river that fed on itself, floating like small pictures that came to life when he touched them. One in particular caught his eye and he reached forward to scoop the thought from Jasmine's open mind. The picture was of her and Aladdin, a star-spangled sky in the fore why the two gazed in one another's eyes, gliding upon the magic carpet that Mozenrath had seen save the group a few times more than he cared to name.

_You are the boy from the market, why did you lie to me?_

_Did you think I was stupid? That I wouldn't figure it out?!_

_Yes—I mean…no!_

Mozenrath smirked, watching Aladdin tell yet another lie to cover another, but he saw Jasmine's shrewd expression and knew she wasn't buying it, no matter how cheap Aladdin was selling it for. He set the memory back on the river and it flowed away, vanishing around the bend while he searched the memories for something a bit more interesting. As he soaked into her mind, he noted that the framing to certain pictures indicated whether they were memories or merely dreams. When he spotted a dream, he all but pounced upon it; well and so, he was featured. In Jasmine's mind, he was a villain seeking to reform, seeking redemption amongst those he had made his enemies. It was almost adorable that she harbored such hopes for him in particular in secret, but the dream held nothing of import save that what he had planned to do—using diplomacy to conquer the Seven Deserts—had fallen through and instead the kingdoms managed to include him amongst their sovereignty. Mozenrath tossed the dream back into the river, insulted and disgusted. He _would _conquer the Seven Deserts, and he'd do so the minute things were set straight when he escaped this eerie, lifeless world. He plucked a memory idly, seeing Nadja and Jasmine standing at the mouth of one of the caves, engaged in what appeared to be amicable conversation.

_But he defeated Destane; he could have chosen another route._

_When the serpent of bondage has held you so long, sometimes it becomes a comfort—so much that when the serpent dies, you are left bereft of purpose and long for the suffocation once more._

_You care about him, don't you?_

Mozenrath shoved the memory away, wondering why the two women had discussed him, and why Nadja's word struck a chord in him that was not shy from the truth. He wanted to know if because her comrades were dead, if Nadja had been referring to herself as much as him. It had never occurred to him that she was not such a wild card any more without the other two _Viperinae _to complete the lethal trinity. After he had defeated Destane—by sheer force of will and blind fortuity—he had come to a crossroads. The Land of the Black Sand fell under his power and somewhere along the line he had become like his master, from torturing needlessly, to causing senseless suffering for his own amusement.

But he had not committed the atrocities Destane himself had made a daily discourse. Mozenrath could still feel the pain resonate in the half-healed wounds of his memory. Mozenrath had vowed never to take his dark path to power that far. He vowed never to lose his mind, and yet, when he had taken the Gauntlet from Destane, he had inevitably sealed his fate. The serpent of bondage had died, yes, but somewhat _else _weighed his mind in inextricable chains that refused to let him deviate from the path he had inadvertently chosen. In the beginning, he had chosen this path, vowing to never again be a victim to another, never again be _powerless_, and now he was one of the most feared sorcerers in the Seven Deserts…and perhaps beyond. He withdrew from Jasmine's mind, receding like a black tide before he returned to his own mind, in time to hear Nadja say they should stop and make camp before braving the thick of the forest. Mozenrath, slightly fatigued from perusing Jasmine's mind so long, did not contest it, and Jasmine looked as if she wished to go on, cover as much ground as they could, but she kept her mouth shut. Better to travel when they were well-rested. After a quick set up, they sat huddled about a modest fire, and Mozenrath said he could spirit them off to a more agreeable world, although he was mocking them.

"The less magic we use, the better," Jasmine said, more toward Mozenrath than Nadja, "we don't know who else may be watching us…or if your power can be drained here." Nadja's brows rose in surprise.

"And what do you know of magical deadzones, princess? Because that is what you just described." Jasmine shrugged, indicating that she was only thinking practically, she had not realized that such a possibility was common in strange worlds. The strangest place she had ever been was Morbia, and it was also the most frightening. This place was just empty and lifeless.

"A magical dead zone is a place where magic is simply leeched away…it can not exist. If we enter one, Mozenrath will be defenseless." Nadja smiled at him, and Mozenrath's lip curled. He was _never _defenseless, and he would impress upon the Adder that this was infallible fact, not some pompous toting of his black banner to a pair of stubborn women. As Nadja warmed her fingers by the fire, Jasmine took one to examine it.

"I have some salve back home to soften your hands, if you'd like." Nadja snatched her hand away.

"I am not a princess like you, Jasmine. These are the hands of one who spills blood for a living. No salve will erase that fact. I do appreciate the gesture, though." Jasmine's eyes narrowed. It seemed the easy camaraderie the three had found was wavering somewhat, but she assumed it was because Nadja was tired, which was made evident as she took a bedroll and coverlet from the saddlebag and went to sleep. Mozenrath chuckled.

"Trying to coax a snake to surrender its venom is a futile task, princess. I would think after five years you would know a lost cause when you saw one." Jasmine pursed her lips. "No cause is lost, Mozenrath. They just become difficult to handle." Mozenrath rolled his eyes.

"Please, princess. We're in the middle of no where, you can stow that hero-talk for someone who still believes in it. You can speak what you really think, now." Especially since he had so recently been inside of her head, he knew that she believed what she was saying. She most likely thought that by the end of this ridiculous journey, she would have singlehandedly convinced an assassin to lay aside her blades in favor of a quiet and humble life, and convinced him that his quest for power was as futile as trying to convince Nadja to stop doing the only thing she had ever done without fault or flaw.

Nonsense.

"Maybe you can stow your cynicism as well, Mozenrath," she countered, "She's not evil like you, and you had her friends murdered. It is because of you we are here to begin with." Mozenrath's lip curled into a veritable sneer again.

"Actually, Jasmine, it is because of _you _we are here. Had you not thieved my Gauntlet, it would be you and your pathetic lot of friends here and not me. And don't kid yourself…Nadja's heart is as black as the land I rule. It is because she still finds you useful—or amusing—that she had not drawn a blade on you."

"And what about you, Mozenrath? Why hasn't she drawn a blade on you?" Mozenrath raised his leather-encased hand and Jasmine did not look convinced.

"But you saw it with your own eyes…she is capable of using the Gauntlet herself without aid. She could have killed you and escaped using the magic. She could have killed both of us if she thought we were slowing her down." Mozenrath shrugged.

"Perhaps it is because I am so dashing, princess."

"And perhaps she actually gives a damn about you." Mozenrath's eyes went wide in mock-shock, his leather hand covering his mouth. "Careful, princess. Profanity isn't very ladylike." He assumed Jasmine did not know of what had happened between the Adder and himself back in the village, and that despite the tension between them being lessened in light of that, it did not mean either of them were ready to set aside their weapons of choice for fear of treachery. Nadja's easy handling of the Gauntlet was precisely why he would not stow his usually biting and arrogant nature—even if she did care for him.

"If you think she cares for me, princess, you have been attached at the hip of that street rat of yours for far too long. I wonder how he's handling this. Do you think he's pounding away thinking his pitiable pet _Djini _can open the portal and come save you?" His question struck a nerve and Jasmine's gaze snapped from the flickering fire to the sorcerer.

"Aladdin will find a way to get me out of her, and I've half a mind to tell him to leave you behind." Mozenrath raised a brow.

"And you had planned to take me with you? Princess are you sure you want to marry that street rat? I can teach you things he wouldn't even take into consi—" Jasmine held up her hands and made a noise for him to be silent.

"You're despicable."

"I was speaking in jest, princess. I can tell you love that ragamuffin, it's written all over your face. But you know, if you're ever entertaining the thought of taking a more…_adventurous _route—" He held up his hands as a pebble struck him on the head and found Jasmine's glower pinning him. She was already moving to gather her bedroll. "We need to get some rest and figure out where we are tomorrow." Mozenrath smirked.

"Sweet dreams, princess."


	11. The Right to Choose

**Author's Note: **Alright, I kind of didn't proofread the last chapter closely enough for errors, and my friends find fanfiction to be more humorous and don't really bother to read this facet of my writing. Thus, I am forced to work alone (as usual). Anyway, this chapter might get a little darker than previous installments, as I actually had plans…really depraved ones; you've been forewarned. The poem in the last scene break of this chapter is copyrighted to my friend, Alex, who wrote it to me during a shared darkness. I figured it fit the scene well enough. I hope you guys are still following this, I think my next chapter may be them finally returning to the Seven Deserts realm, but don't be surprised at Jasmine's funky behavior :D.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_Some may say this might be your last __**farewell ride**__._

The sunrise found the trio in a land leeched of its color. Where the village had turned to stone, so had the land been bled of whatever vitality and color it once held in the vibrant silence of the night. The trees were black, the leaves a monotonous shade of gray. Jasmine ran her fingers over the bark of one checking her fingertips for residue of whatever could have done something like this. Mozenrath's expression was pensive, examining the area, knowing that this curse had more to it than his literary sources had hinted to. Nadja kept herself on guard, and a full night's rest seemed to have rejuvenated the Adder somewhat, as she looked less tired and more as if she were ready to tackle the quest of returning to a more familiar plane of existence.

"What is happening here?" Jasmine's voice was soft, a ripple of concern for the ailments that must have plagued Amoria for centuries—millennia even!—before their inadvertent arrival. Her brows furrowed as she plucked a gray leaf from one of the trees; it withered to ash in her hand fluttering away on the barely-felt breeze that did not even do so much as rustle her hair. Mozenrath said nothing for a moment as their mounts moved at a sedate pace through the colorless forest. Even the grass was a dark shade of slate that was reminiscent of—

"Volcano." Mozenrath said suddenly, and the two women glanced questioningly in his direction. "The unseen volcano has to be the source of this. How else could you explain the villagers turning to stone, the lava flooding the Hinterlands…and…"

"…plucked leaves turning to ash." Jasmine finished. Nadja snorted. "That is not our concern. We must find a way out." Mozenrath countered her.

"That volcano might be the only way we can escape this world. I tried casting a spell for a portal last night. Not even a spark." Jasmine reined her mount in a tight circle to cut his own off.

"You did what?! You were attempting to leave us here?" Nadja reined her mount to a halt.

"It's a good thing he failed, else I would have been denied the pleasure of killing him myself." There was a hiss as a blade slid from some sheath hidden on her body. Mozenrath raised his Gauntlet, the fingers crackling with blue energy. Nadja looked unafraid, Jasmine hesitated.

"What are you going to do, Mozenrath? Kill us? You'll still be trapped in Amoria…_powerless_." Jasmine knew she struck a nerve when she saw the fury flare in the sorcerer's dark eyes. "And you'll be dead, princess. Either way, I live, and I at least will be rid of the shrew…and the snake." He searched quickly to see if he'd elicited some sort of reaction from the Adder. He saw it, the tightening of her jaw, the slight narrowing of her eyes. He had struck a chord. Good, it served her right. He lowered his hand slowly, however, as his gaze was snared by the moving shadows ahead of them. Jasmine was about to say aught else when her gaze followed the beeline Mozenrath's had made. Nadja too, fell into her warrior's silence. Jasmine reined her mount to face the approaching figures, and for a moment the trio suspected the _Immortalis _had found them and if that was so, then the Seven Deserts were no more. Mozenrath's bare hand tightened on the reins, his Gauntlet resonating with dammed up power, waiting to be unleashed. He saw, from the corner of his eye, Nadja's arms flex to unsheathe a few hairs of steel. Jasmine had gone to finger the fletch of an arrow, gripping one of the bows Nadja had procured from the village the previous day. As the figures became visible, Jasmine was the only one who visibly relaxed. Mozenrath and Nadja, accustomed to being the enemies of all and allies of none, did not see these living people as a welcoming party.

"Who are they?" Jasmine's voice was pitched low, but before Nadja or Mozenrath could respond, they were surrounded. The trio found themselves at the ends of a dozen spears carved from gleaming obsidian, and their shadowy intruders wore large masks, and various animal hide clothing. The leader, who must have been by the amount of piercings on his bared torso, pointed his spear in their direction, and spoke, but the language that came out was none either of the trio knew.

"Who are you to trespass in the Lord of Darkness' territory?" His voice was like sandpaper on satin, a juxtaposition of frightening and alluring and Nadja glanced to Mozenrath questioningly.

"I didn't read about it." He said aloud, answering the unspoken inquests writ in her dark gaze. The reins were snatched from their hands and they took it as orders to dismount. Mozenrath, unsure of whether to use magic against these warriors or not, dismounted. Nadja shook her head, no. This was an unknown variable, and an unknown enemy, Mozenrath knew the consequences of tipping one's hand too soon. It was then the leader removed his mask. His skin was swarthier than that of the villagers, and his face was tattooed with black markings that made him appear both sinister and unreal. When he smiled, his teeth were carved with symbols that were filled in with black to make them visible.

"Welcome." He said, although the inflection of his voice said anything but that. Within moments the Nadja had exploded into action the moment one of the other men made a move to touch her. Mozenrath and Jasmine did not even catch the movement, only a flash of steel and a shriek in the morning air as the men reeled backward, clutching a bloody stump where his arm used to be from the elbow down. He swore in his own tongue and Nadja moved, like silk in a wayward breeze, to dispatch the attacking soldiers. Realizing that she was tipping her hand, and coaxing him not to tip his, Mozenrath took a dagger from a sheath hanging from his mount's saddle. He did not want to reveal his magical might, and for all he knew, a majority of his power could have been leeched in the effort to conjure the portal the previous night. Jasmine was overpowered first, while it took six of the warriors to wrench the blades from Nadja's blood-slick grip, and for every blade they relieved, another took its place. In the end, more of the warriors were summoned and Nadja was driven to her knees, taking a strike to the temple which caused her to slump, her arms held outstretched as the trio was bound tight with rope and hauled forward. Mozenrath watched as their mounts were unsaddled and the warriors pilfered their supplies for whatever they found to be useful for themselves.

"What was _that _about?" Jasmine demanded of Nadja, who was recovering for the disorientation of the blow that was now beginning to bruise on her temple.

"I was testing their mettle. See…they are gathering my blades for me." Nadja watched as a warrior hauled her blades along behind them. Nadja wiggled her tongue at Jasmine, revealing one of the razors hidden within her mouth. A trump card, however small, was still a trump card. Jasmine nodded. They may have found themselves needing to fight these warriors…it was better to know their strength before facing off with them again. Mozenrath still had his magic, hopefully, and that was the only true wild card they had in their favor. As they passed through the forest, the scent of pumice and ash became stronger and the three glanced at one another. The forest was breached from the other side, and there, in plain sight, was the Unseen Volcano. The peak was spewing gray ash that blotted out the sky, lava flowed in white-hot tributaries down its black slopes, and the three realized that they were to meet the source of the Curse of Amoria.

_Please allow me to introduce myself; I'm a __**man of wealth**__ and taste._

_I've __**been around for a long, long year**__…stole many a man's __**soul and faith**__._

_I was around when Jesus cried; had his moments of __**doubt and pain**__._

_Made damn sure the pilot washed his hands and __**sealed his fate**__._

…_pleased to meet you, hope you __**guess my name**__._

Nadja and Mozenrath had both seen their fair share of amazing palaces, Jasmine had been confined to her adventures and her own palace, but all were awed by the dark beauty of the palace built into the _face _of a volcano! Lava poured from obsidian mouths of gargoyles that looked over the petrified landscape with menacing snarls and angry, glowing eyes. Beneath a large drawbridge flowed a moat of lava, and Nadja saw that it fed into the mountains. Now she was beginning to understand the nature of the curse, but not the nature of its source. By day, everything was cursed to stillness, while the surrounding area burned beneath lava. By night, everything returned to normal…with the Hinterlands plagued by a blizzard to cool the scorched land, and the people of the village allowed to live their normal lives. It was an abomination, but she was not here to save these people, she was here to save herself. Mozenrath wondered what sort of power held sway over the very forces of nature, and in that part of him that would never be slaked, he _coveted _this power for himself. If he could escape Amoria with anything including his life…he would be taking the source of that power with him. Jasmine was veritably frightened, as shown in the pallor of her normally dusky skin, but she held her head high, held fast to that resilience that had intrigued Mozenrath and the Adder from the beginning.

_Good. She'll need it where we're headed. _Mozenrath thought, and found himself oddly vexed that he was even concerned as to how the princess fared. As they were led across the drawbridge and into the castle proper, they were assaulted by a shrill shriek of terror and uproarious laughter.

Perdition. This would be their hell, their trial by fire and fury before they could finally leave this cursed place.

As they were allowed to live, so they were allowed to look their fill of what may very well have been their final sight before they reached the throne room. Jasmine found this place to be one of chaos, and the sculptures on the wall were garish and vulgar, with scenes of rape depicted in many of them. She reserved her opinion and instead was forced to look upon the actions being performed in the throne room.

"Majesty of the Unending Fire! We come bearing gifts!" The leader of the band of warriors proclaimed. Nadja's eyes siphoned to the black throne, carved from obsidian, and seated upon it was a man who looked as bored as she had felt when the sultan of Persis had made love to her. He was large, impossibly large for an apparently mortal man, and his hair was the color of a wild flame allowed to burn without reservation, his skin a sun-washed bronze that was as unblemished as Jasmine's purity, and his eyes were a black so solemn that they swallowed all light greedily, giving them no quarter or emotion. He was a warrior, Nadja could tell from the corded muscle that rippled beneath his skin when he moved. Holding up his hand, the atrocious torture being performed in the center of the room ceased and he motioned for the band to come forward that he may have a look at the pitiable mortal gifts they delivered. As the three were shoved forward on their knees into an obeisant kneel before the lord, he chuckled.

"The women are pretty, but too dark to be of Amorian stock. Where did you find them? And who is the man that travels with them who bears resemblance to Aniki?" Mozenrath's brows furrowed and he stole a glance to Nadja. She shrugged. She had never heard the name either. Their gazes snapped to Jasmine when the lord reached down to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His gaze lingered on her face, on the anger and pride writ within her eyes, and then he looked at the band's leader.

"A virgin? You have done me proud this time around, Kenud." Nadja bristled. He was no mortal man, to be able to smell purity…or was Jasmine so good a person that it permeated her pores like a perfume? Mozenrath knew the fate of virgins in the hands of men like this one…Destane had been one of those men. Jasmine jerked her head away, falling back on her bottom, causing the lord's brows to raise in surprise.

"Does she not know who I am to be so defiant?" Kenud kneeled at the lord's feet.

"Forgive me, Dark Lord Aoki. They are not of Amorian stock and know not the nature of your might and eminence." Mozenrath wanted to roll his eyes, and he did. Playing the supplicant was disgusting, and this was reminiscent of his days of standing beside Destane as he watched the man bend others to his whim by the sheer threat of what he was capable of. Aoki glanced down to Jasmine, smirking.

"Perhaps she will understand it, when the life of one of her friends hangs in the balance." And just like that, Mozenrath found himself the center of attention, being crushed beneath the oppressive weight of the _god's _will and terrible gaze. The force was suffocating him, and it must have showed from the look of dread on Jasmine's face as she shook her head and called out…and yet Mozenrath could hear nothing—nothing but his own breath as it struggled into his starved and oppressed lungs, nothing but his blood rushing feverishly to supply his organs with much-needed oxygen. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"Stop! Please! Don't hurt him!" Aoki did not look away from Mozenrath, watching the sorcerer who had gone from a force to be reckoned with to mere mortal man with a look; Aoki's expression was unmoved by Jasmine's cries, but when she began to sob for Aoki to spare the sorcerer, Mozenrath felt the weight ease some before finally it was as if a boulder had been rolled from him. He collapsed forward, sucking in the blessed air as if he had just been born and the birth cord had been severed. Aoki watched Jasmine weep for a time, his expression amused.

"You would sacrifice yourself for the sake of this pitiful man's life…but not give yourself to me willingly?" Jasmine sniffled, unable to look away from Aoki's dark gaze. Nadja pitied the princess. Neither she nor Mozenrath could save her. Aoki was a god-made-flesh, and even if they killed his body, his wrath would come down upon them in a veritable rain of fire.

"Yes…" Jasmine's voice shook, but beneath the wavering silk of her voice was the steel of stubbornness—of _resilience_—that Mozenrath knew so well. Mozenrath, in another time and place, may not have minded sending others to their deaths that he might live, but Aoki reminded him too much of Destane, and for some reason…he…he did not _want _her to do this. That purity that had kept Jasmine separate from every woman he had ever come into contact with…that purity would be burned to ash and tinder if Aoki had his way. Aoki ran his fingertip over Jasmine's cheek and licked it, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Your pain, it is sweet to the tongue…a purity that I have not relished for some time. So it is true you will give yourself to me in exchange for this man's life?" Jasmine glanced to Mozenrath, and saw Nadja shaking her head. No, no. No matter whose life it was on the line, she could not do this to herself—she was _not _a martyr. Jasmine's gaze siphoned to Aoki's, her resilience shining like steel beneath the wilting of the lovely flower.

All loveliness would fade here. All dreams would die here.

"Yes." With that word, Aoki let out a raucous laugh and ordered Jasmine to be sent to his chambers to be cleansed and await him for the evening. Jasmine was hauled away and Nadja found she could not meet the girl's gaze.

"As for _you_…" Aoki's oppressive gaze fell to Nadja and the woman flinched beneath its weight. Mozenrath didn't want to know what sort of fate Nadja would meet—hopefully one worse than the princess', the vicious serpent had it coming.

"She is a hellion breed of female, my lord," Kenud said. "She would make an excellent entertainer in the cages." Aoki raised a flame-colored brow.

"A warrior? So slight a woman?" Kenud kowtowed, but Aoki did not seem to care.

"Do not be fooled by her physique, Dark Lord! She dispatched several of my men with innumerable blades. It took six of my men to hold her down before we could subdue her!" Aoki's gaze never left Nadja, and it was not covetous…only suspicious.

"There is something about her that troubles me. Where did you find her?" Nadja's eyes narrowed, but she kept her gaze downcast.

"In the forests, sir. Shall I have her executed?" Aoki kept his gaze on Nadja, and silence fell a moment before he gave his answer.

"Yes." Mozenrath's eyes went wide. Nadja looked up, her expression one of shock. She had not expected to be executed.

"Kill the boy as well." That did it. The first warrior who went to grab Nadja's shoulders reeled in pain as she spat at him. Clawing at his face, he attempted to dislodge the razor embedded in the bridge of her nose and sinking into his eye. He shrieked in pain and Aoki shrieked in laughter.

"A blade in the mouth? All this time! Ahaha! Kenud she is a clever bitch!" Another hand went to snatch at her hair and he pulled away with cuts on his bloodied fingers.

"In the hair too?!" Aoki laughed like a child being entertained by puppets as another man pulled away trying to clamp his hand over her mouth and found it gouged by the second razor in her mouth. Jumping to her feet, she motioned to Mozenrath to employ his Gauntlet. Finally, able to flex his true might, Mozenrath burned free of his binds and cast a spell that froze the remaining warriors in ice. Aoki's eyes narrowed suddenly and Mozenrath felt the oppressive weight of the fire god forcing him to his knees. An arm shot out and fingers wrapped about Nadja's throat. A good shake and the slender blades in her hair were dislodged and clattered to the floor. She soon joined them as he tossed her.

"Beautiful and deadly…and her pet wizard here is talented. Relieve him of his magical glove…and send them both to the cages. I would like to see how long they fare. Then I shall go feast on that young girl's purity. You have brought me fine gifts indeed." Mozenrath snarled through the pain of being weighed down by the god's might.

_Pet _wizard? He'd be damned if he died with that title. Nadja lay on the floor, trembling from the force of Aoki's brutal shaking of her body. Mozenrath felt his heart's palpitations slow, skip a beat, and then resume. He was concerned for her well-being as well. Days lost in this cursed realm had seen him in the company of more people than he had been for years. Perhaps it was part of why he pestered Aladdin and his companions so, other than his wounded pride from being defeated. He enjoyed the interaction, but because of Destane's conditioning…he didn't know how to interact with others without wanting to hurt them.

But to see another like Destane inflict harm on another dredged memories from the shallow graveyard of his agile mind, making them surface and forcing him to see the mirror held up to him. He had not wanted to be like Destane, and he took no pleasure in seeing Aoki's bare foot pinned to Nadja's back while she struggled like a worm baited upon a fishing hook—futile.

"Wait!" At first, he was unaware of his own voice as Aoki was given a sword—forgetting his order to take them to the cages—and was preparing to end Nadja's life right then and there. Aoki paused, his expression one of surprise that someone would defy his will, no matter how insane. Kenud's eyes narrowed behind his tattooed mask and Aoki lowered the sword, caressing Nadja's cheek with the cold flat of the blade. Mozenrath saw her disgust and Aoki's pleasure at her discomfort, but he pressed on.

"She doesn't know any better. She thought she was being attacked. I have seen her fight and she is fearsome…to kill her would be to waste her talents." Aoki was amused, but his gaze was unfocused, as if he were not paying attention. He was a mad god, indeed. He continued his idle caress of Nadja cheek, and then began to cut away her clothes, revealing the smooth sepia skin of her shoulder.

"The pet wizard speaks in your defense, vicious one," Aoki said and Nadja grunted as the pressure of his foot increased; she could feel her lungs struggling for breath. "But I think it is because he loves you…not because he wishes to see your talents preserved. Tell me…how far would you go, pet sorcerer?" Mozenrath knew what he was asking. Aoki suddenly drove the sword into Nadja shoulder and her piercing cry resonated within him. He hoped Jasmine had at least attempted to escape.

"How _far _would you go?" Aoki asked again, twisting the blade until he saw with satisfaction the tears of pain that welled in the Adder's eyes. "How much blood would you shed for your lover? How much of her blood will you allow me to spill before you act?" Nadja was trying to speak to him but pain had rendered her mouth useless and her lips moved, forming shapeless words, and no sounds would come save the whimpering of that animalistic pain Aoki drew pleasure from. Mozenrath held out his skeletal hand.

"Take me in her place." It was…selfless, and in any other place, any other time, he would not have done this but this echoed of the cruelties Destane had put on display when first he began as the wizard's apprentice. There had been the rape—he could still smell his own sweat, and blood, taste the salt of his tears. The scourging of his back by a metal-tipped cat o' nine, administered by Destane's heavy-handed blows; then there was the torture conditioning.

_To know your enemy's pain, is to draw greater pleasure when you inflict it upon them. Use your suffering as a fuel for your rage…and exact that rage upon them, as I have upon you. _

There had been sacrifices done in Destane's name, the slaughtering of innocents, and blood christened the walls of the Citadel, fed the insatiable thirst of the sands—and their screams died, and with them Destane's secrets. Mozenrath had grown tired of it, but in the process something had broken within him.

"In her place? I do not normally take on young men, but you are pretty enough. The vicious one who prickles with blades shall go to one of my priests. They've a taste for dangerous flesh…" He snatched the sword out casually, ignoring Nadja's gasp and exhalation of agony before he walked back to his throne to lounge upon it.

"I can see that you are not pure, pet sorcerer," Aoki said evenly, "and that your purity was taken long ago. The vicious one is not pure either…but she has a flavor I desire. And her suffering pleases me. Make her suffer, and I will set you free…disobey and I will show you that there are things much worse than death, and I am capable of all of them." Mozenrath and Nadja shared a brief glance. He saw her eyes shut, and she inclined her head in acquiescence. He would torment her—as he had longed to do in the past—for his freedom. It would give him a chance to free both her and Jasmine, if he still continued on this path to redemption he had summarily taken up. Nadja had struggled to sit up, balancing precariously on quaking arms and shivering thighs. Aoki's brows rose in boredom.

"Well sorcerer? How will you do it? How will you make of her an instrument of exquisite agony?" Mozenrath could think of quite a few ways, but he needed to do this without killing her.

"I will need a metal-tipped whip…and a spinning wheel to strap her to." Aoki smirked.

"Supply him with what he needs…and bring my pure gift. I wish for her to see as well."

_Adia I do believe __**I failed you**__. _

_Adia I know __**I let you down**__._

_Don't you know I tried so __**hard to love you**__ in my way?_

_It's easy…__**let it go**__._

She remembered them laughing, the guards who had unceremoniously hauled her off to Aoki's bedchamber. Jasmine was no stranger to enemies attempting to make a play for her purity, and she had fended them off before. She had seduced Jafar at sixteen, and Aladdin had tricked him into shackling himself into a lamp…and when he returned they destroyed him once and for all. She had foiled sorcerers and demons, goddesses and Amazons. She was a heroine in every sense of the word.

But never had she pitted her wits against evil incarnate.

Aoki was a mad god who held dominion over a land that neither she nor her current companions knew anything about and worse yet, he was a god whose power had managed to quell Mozenrath's immense ability. Jasmine knew she would not emerge from this adventure unscathed…assuming she emerged at all.

"You can't think like that," she chided herself, "you've been in worse scrapes than this. This is just like fighting Mirage on her own turf."

Would that it were only that, but it was so much worse. Mirage had at least had a method she could predict—an illusion of some sort would be involved, but Aoki was a god that she had never heard of, and even Mozenrath who made it a point to know of all things magical did not know who Aoki was…and what had Aoki meant by saying Mozenrath bore resemblance to Aniki? Jasmine had padded about the immense room, unbound and garbed in clothing more suitable to a brothel than a god's sacrifice.

"I guess it isn't much different…" She muttered and tried for the door again. Still locked. She looked around the high vaulted ceiling for anything and spotted a small ventilation opening, but it was awfully high. Jasmine gnawed her lush lower lip and began searching the room for a way to climb to the top. She did not know if the small opening would lead anywhere…but she was certainly not going to wait for Aoki to come and have his way with her. Before she could begin tearing the sheets from the bed to fashion into rope, she heard the sound of the door being unbolted and quickly dove into the bed. Kenud and three of his men darkened the doorway.

"Lord Aoki demands you come and join him for tonight's festivities." Jasmine sat up in the bed, feigning a stretch and a yawn as she fixed Kenud with a glower worthy of her station.

"Does he now?" She asked slipping from the bed in a way she assumed Nadja would. Jasmine could play seductress well, but Nadja had made of it an art form. She assumed borrowing some of the Adder's sexual prowess would aid in convincing these men that she was to be underestimated and taken lightly…all the better to plan an escape. As she was escorted down the hall she noted the eerie silence of this section of the palace…until she heard the gasps of a woman and the grunts of a man. Aoki must have shared his harem with his most trusted supplicants. Jasmine shuddered to think of what would befall her, Mozenrath, and Nadja. And then she heard the raucous noise from the throne room as Aoki clapped his hands announcing the festivities would begin as soon as his _aoi _arrived. Jasmine knew he spoke of her, but whether _aoi _was a word of endearment or no made no difference. As the dim, muggy light of the hallway gave way to the brightly lit throne room, the cheers nigh deafened her as Aoki spotted her, his wild eyes bright with glee as he snatched her by the arm and leapt into his throne, holding her in his lap. Jasmine grimaced but when she saw Mozenrath standing at the center of the throne room, everything else seemed to fall silent around her. The cheers died to a muffled murmur, as if she were submerged in dark water, suspended and without a sense of direction. He was garbed in his blue trousers and shoes, but his hair had been loosed about his shoulders in a sensual profusion of black curls, framing his youthful face and making him look like a pale, solemn Adonis.

He was the most breathtaking she had ever seen him.

He had the Gauntlet back, and within its grip was a sleek cat o' nine, tipped with metal rods, fashioned into tiny claws that would rend flesh beneath each snap of his wrist. Sweat glistened on his slender torso, and she noted a bruise along his ribs. Had Aoki's will veritably been wrapped about his body and crushed him. Jasmine's hand went to her mouth in a gasp as a large spinning wheel was rolled into the center of the room. Mozenrath did not even look, and Jasmine could not readily read his expression. Strapped to the wheel, nude and already injured, was Nadja. While Aoki had skewered her shoulder, her back lay unblemished, awaiting the kiss of the lash in Mozenrath's grip. Jasmine wanted to weep. That Aoki would pit them against one another was depraved, that he would subjugate them this way was a sign that they needed to stop them. She could not return to Agrabah knowing she left others to suffer beneath Aoki's oppression.

"You see, _aoi_? I do this in honor of your purity!" Aoki's large hand cupped one of Jasmine's breast, pinching a nipple between his fingers, causing the princess to involuntarily moan and whimper. Mozenrath saw this, and she saw that he was watching her. His disgust hurt her and she shuddered hoping Aoki would stop.

He didn't.

"Begin!" Aoki commanded, his voice buffeting in her ears like a bird's frantic wings. Mozenrath tore his gaze from Jasmine and seared Nadja's bared backside with it. Jasmine prayed the Adder was at least unconscious. To her chagrin, Nadja lifted her head groggily as the first lash fell. Nine identical claw marks left their signature in her soft flesh, tearing Nadja from her haze and into a world of searing pain. As Mozenrath whipped, Nadja cried out, and Jasmine had to wonder if Mozenrath did not enjoy making the Adder suffer as much as Aoki enjoyed directing this macabre display of entertainment.

"Hear her agony, _aoi_. It is all for you!" Jasmine grimaced again, feeling his hands slip between her thighs, fingers drumming along the moist exterior of her netherlips. Instinctively, she snapped her thighs together and Aoki laughed, forcing her thighs apart with his knees. Here, in front of everyone, he would display her purity, tamper with the nectar of the unplucked flower before he uprooted it in the sanctity of his bedchamber. Mozenrath was aware of this in the peripherals of his vision, and he beat Nadja all the harder for it. How had it come to this? How had they spiraled from battling intrigue and employing diplomacy for the safety or fall of the Seven Deserts to…to _this_? Rage spurred the sorcerer on, and he charged the Gauntlet with power.

Nadja's body was alarmed with pain, and beneath the now blood-slick flesh, muscles rippled and tensed in their binds, and she pulled against the leather cords which bound her to the spinning wheel. As she spun, Mozenrath whipped, and in her wheeling vision she Aoki making a lewd display of Jasmine, whose thighs were spread and with one of the god's hands between them, toying with her as if she were little more than a plaything.

Nadja wept and she was unsure as to why. She had just wanted to complete her assignment…how had it come to this? Why did she feel as if with each kiss of Mozenrath's well-placed lash she would never be scoured of the taint of his kiss? Of his touch? Why did she pity Jasmine despite it all? Jasmine had been little more than a pain, and were it not for her clever tongue, she would be useless. But she wasn't…and even if she was, she was innocent. No one deserved the subjugation she was enduring. Nadja screamed but none heard the rage…none save Mozenrath and Jasmine. The rest assumed it was a scream of agony…and they roared with approval as Mozenrath's hand. Aoki held up his hand, signaling for the sorcerer to stop, which he did.

Blood dripped from the metal tips, ran in rivulets down her back and over the rotund curvature of her rear, down the backs of her legs to drip onto the floor. The wooden wheel had splintered beneath her nails and she lay, suffused to the marrow with a pain that ran deeper than flesh and threatened to cleave her heart in twain. Mozenrath had hurt her, and not with a whip. She would endure an endless beating if he would look at her the way he looked at the princess.

_Sometimes I feel like a still life, that won't sit right on the wall._

_Sometimes I feel like a guitar with one broken string, so all the chords come out slightly wrong._

_Sometimes I don't feel at all, and I'm not sure I mind._

_I'm a study in gray, and I've nothing to say._

_As I paint my portrait of dissatisfaction._

_I eat ash with my hands, and vomit ink on the page._

_And if I sit real still, I swear I can feel myself age._

_I have conversations, with the spaces between the echoes._

_I'm always running, but I'm going no where._

_I'll meet you in Big Nothing._

That night, they were thrown into the cages to await Aoki's decision and Jasmine was taken away to the god's bedchamber. Mozenrath, unable to look at Nadja, kept his distance at first, but when he saw her shivering upon the cold floor, he came to tend to her wounds.

"Why didn't you kill them with the Gauntlet?" She asked, her voice delirious. Mozenrath's skeletal hand pushed away a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her back as he cleaned her wounds with the water and rag provided. By the time he was done, the water was a dark pink from her blood, and he saw the extent of his fury laid bare in open wounds upon her beautiful body.

"Aoki would have torn me apart before I completed the killing spell. His power is greater than mine." Mozenrath said evenly, as if admitting to being bested by someone else did not rattle his nerves in the slightest. Nadja knew better.

"It infuriated you," she said, echoing his thoughts, "that he overpowered you by force of will alone. I could see it in your eyes. He wrapped his will about you and suffocated you with it." Mozenrath tore strips of cloth from his clothing to dress her wounds.

"Why did you allow me to torture you like that?" He asked suddenly, his hands hovering over crosshatched pair of cat claw marks on the small of her back. Nadja snorted.

"Why does it matter? I mean nothing to you, despite Aoki's words. He thinks you were willing to sacrifice yourself because you love me. I know different." Mozenrath flinched at the acid of her words.

"And how do you figure that?"

"You are incapable of loving me." Mozenrath wondered how she had come to this conclusion…and worse, why he had reached a different conclusion before she confessed this to him. Nonetheless, he pressed on for answers—he hated not knowing.

"And how am I incapable of loving you, Nadja?"

"Because your heart lies elsewhere." Mozenrath paused, and Nadja sat up to look at him, not even mindful of her nudity. "Did you think I would not figure it out? The elaborate plan for diplomatic conquest? The baiting of the hook knowing it would be Jasmine who saw it for bait and would nibble it first. Knowing that she would come to pit herself against me and try to win. And in the end, you would conquer Agrabah by seducing her." Mozenrath was amazed to be faced with this accusation, and even worse, because Nadja was so close to the truth she could devour it in one inhale.

"I figured an alliance would give me an easier path to the throne than direct force." Nadja's lip curled in a sneer.

"And that night in the inn back in the village? It meant nothing to you, did it? It was just a release of all the sexual tension you and I had built up and pulled taut. Now…now Jasmine is beginning to care for you, you have no further use for me, am I right?" Now, she had angered him…but not because she had shoved the truth in his face, but because she thought that that night had meant nothing to him. Mozenrath's face hardened, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

"If that is what you wish to believe Nadja, then far be it from me to make you see logic. I do not love the princess…but that does not mean I do not _want _her."

"But you would grow to love her. Who wouldn't love a woman like her, Mozenrath? Admit it…if all that you had planned came to fruition, and you married her instead of Aladdin…would you not grow to love her?"

"But she would never love me back." Nadja fell silent.

"So you admit that you would, and that it would be pointless because she would never forgive you…and thus, never love you." Nadja drew her knees to her chin, resting her chin upon them thoughtfully. "I would have made you a sultan of the Seven Deserts and beyond…had you not betrayed me. For you, I would have gone the extra league, paid the extra dinari…anything."

"Why?"

Silence. Nadja did not say anything, but Mozenrath would not take that as an answer to the question which weighed itself on their minds like chains that shackled them to the ground. The Adder was trapped in this cage same as he, and she could no more evade the question than she could escape. So he came closer, until he was too close for her to avert her gaze.

"Why would you have done so much for me? Even now, why? After I betrayed you, after I took pleasure is scourging the flesh of your back with the lash? Even after you revealed my plans from Agrabah and Jasmine? Why would you still tell me you would do anything?" Nadja held his dark gaze, which weighed with such intensity as to pin her to the wall. He had spoken in earnest, as if he needed to know, as if all his hopes, dreams, and _desires _depended upon it. As if all his life had boiled down to the lonely, echoing heartbeat that filled the tense silence between them. Nadja had begun to feel this way when he acknowledged that she was no ordinary woman, which he had contracted her because she defied convention, crossed lines as if they were dust to be danced away beneath her feet. And she remembered what she had read in the tome the night they had that brief interaction…

_Destane thinks to leech the life away from the unfortunate souls who cross his threshold. He thinks to bleed them of their pride, their sense, their knowledge, and their __**lives **__before they are through. As an heir to throne of Epion, he thinks to destroy my kingdom by turning me against them. I vowed when my father gave he and my mother unto this wicked sorcerer that I would find a way to destroy him._

_If my lips shall turn to dust and I am dead before I can succeed, then my methods as to how I will destroy him shall remained immortalized in this tome, that others may see and know that even in the heart of darkness, I provide a means by which to bring back the light. I will atone for the wrongs I am bound to commit against others by sparing them of a greater evil than what I will be fashioned into._

_I will save them from the devil they know, and deliver them into the hands of the black angel they do not. It seems like betrayal at first, but it is the kindest of mercies I can offer in this place that rapes mercy and bleeds it into the hungry black sands._

_I will have my vengeance, and in turn, the Seven Deserts will acknowledge me as a force to be reckoned with instead._

"You are a prince of the ancient nation of Epion," Nadja whispered, "and I know of how it was destroyed, because Destane had originally wanted my father to do it. You do all this, because it spared others the depravities of suffering beneath Destane's oppression. I knew it, then. You were…I was drawn to you…or who you used to be." Mozenrath drew back. He had not bothered to ascertain himself as to what Nadja had been reading that night, had not bother to look at the cover of the book because he had been so drawn to the woman's voice like a moth to a veritable flame. It was not of his volition that so personal an item had wound up in those hands—hands that had pleasured as often as they killed.

"You love me, because of my intention to spare the Seven Deserts of Destane."

"I did not say I loved you, Mozenrath…and Destane is dead, yet you would continue a watered-down version of his tyranny."

"You did not have to say it." Nadja averted her gaze then but Mozenrath would not let her—the prince of the memory that was the ancient nation of Epion would not let her—"I could see it in your eyes the night we spoke that you were drawn to me. It kept me from betraying you…until…until Jasmine discovered the plot sooner than I'd hoped."

"So you love her, Mozenrath. Go, then! Go and save her from that despicable fate as you wished to save everyone from Destane's mad wrath!" Nadja shoved him away but fatigue had drained most of her strength, the whipping display had drained most of her pride. Mozenrath held a defeated woman in his arms, a crown of kings bloodied by overthrow.

"I will save her Nadja, but I have to save _us_, first." He did not let her go, then. Not that night. He assured that her wounds healed clean while he rested his chin on her hair, breathing deep the scent of her defeat and finding no pleasure in it. This was not how he wanted to beat the Adder, this was not a woman who was meant to be taken so far down as to lose hope and care for her own life. And Jasmine…he hoped her resilience still stood when they found a way out of here. But Nadja had accused him of harboring a burgeoning love for her in secret. He began to wonder how much of this fascination with Jasmine stemmed from curiosity, and when he had begun to have actual feelings for her. He wagered Nadja would bow out rather than play second-fiddle to a woman who was destined to rule a kingdom. Nadja probably thought he would choose between them. Mozenrath was unsure why she would think that.

His choice, at the end of this hell they found themselves in, would be made clear.


	12. The Long Road

**Author's Note:** Aaaargh. You know the drill—read _and_ review. Eesh, I'm exhausted after writing this chapter, and also from seeing how it went from political intrigue to an adventure between three unlikely allies and a lot of soul-searching. I might have to pause before my next update, guys. Soooorrryyyy. Oh yeah, mild depravity and violence ahead—be warned.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_Evil draws men together._

Jasmine was still attempting to scrub the taint of the mad god from her flesh when he entered. She scrubbed until her mocha flesh was raw from it, and when Aoki entered the room, she was forced to dry quickly and dress back into the clothes provided. The balmy atmosphere was little comfort to the desert-born princess, and the large god-made-flesh was smiling when he saw her, childish delight in his eyes, his arms open to take her in. Jasmine had never felt more awkward than when she saw the adoration in the mad god's eyes. How he had gone from ruthless tyrant to adoring lover was beyond her.

"_Aoi_," he said, his voice full of love—though he did not know it for love as he scooped the princess into his arms and laughed, kissing her. She fought, unwilling to return his affection in any sense. She wanted Aladdin to be here…Aladdin or Mozenrath. She knew they would help her. Aladdin, definitely, Mozenrath would too. He needed her as much as she needed him. "I have missed your face! Come, come, I must show you something before we retire for the night." Jasmine, fearful of his mercurial nature, played the role of willing sacrifice to the best of her ability, and her stomach turned in fear and disgust the entire way. Aoki led her into the bedchamber, towards a far wall that depicted a tapestry. As Jasmine gleaned the details, she realized that this could be useful. Aoki's long, clawed fingers brushed the tapestry's surface with a gentle reverence, and he explained to her the portrait stitched therein.

"I came to this world in a ball of flame. The people here were godless, without faith, little more than dumb, directionless animals. I gave them a reason to fear, a reason to worship. Then…" Aoki pointed to a valiant, raven-haired male who bore similar resemblance to Mozenrath. "My brother, Aniki, wished me to spare these people of fear. He _pitied _them, little _aoi_. He thought they should be free to continue their faithless wandering." Aoki's eyes took on a delighted gleam as he pointed to a part of the tapestry where Aniki lay on the ground, a spear in his chest. Jasmine covered her mouth, and then he directed her to the ball of silver flame being cast into the tapestry's meticulously stitched sky.

"I killed him, and cast him out of this world. He was displeasing. I do not wish for anything that begets life. The only life I approve of is that of the flame." Jasmine saw a spark of flame dance in his palm briefly. He had dominion over this place…but what had become of Aniki? He too must have been a god, and to be cast out of the world _after _death meant he still had to be alive. Jasmine understood only that Mozenrath bore striking resemblance to Aniki. Perhaps that is why Aoki kept him around.

"Aoki," when his gaze narrowed on her, she corrected herself, assuming the role of mindless supplicant, "my lord…may I ask…did you care for your brother?" Aoki's brows furrowed, his handsome face made garish and monstrous in the flickering flame-light, framed by a mane of flame-colored hair that looked like fire were it made to silk. Jasmine kept her sense and her eyes down.

"I did. But he displeased me. And I do not keep things around that displease me. That is why I keep you so close, little _aoi_. Your beauty pleases me. You shall be mine alone, and I shall make blossom in you flowers of fire. Would you like that?" The question held her pinioned, and Jasmine was hard-pressed to remain silent or answer truthfully. But if she answered, then he would ruin her. She took another approach instead.

"My lord, I am but a mere mortal…flowers of fire would ruin my beauty and end my life." Aoki began to laugh loudly and he summarily scooped the princess into his arms, the bulge of his muscles pressing hard against her delicate form. Jasmine's eyes were wide as he pressed his unnaturally warm lips to her throat.

"Ah, my little _aoi_, you are so innocent. It will make this all the sweeter." His tongue was like a slimy snake, and she grimaced against his touch. She had to stall until she could think of a way out of here.

"My lord, I have another question—"

"So full of questions, _aoi_! That is not what I wanted you for!" He began to carry her toward the bed and Jasmine wriggled in his iron embrace.

"What happens to your…your kind when they die?" Aoki paused, quirking a brow with a small smile.

"Why, we are reborn in new bodies of course! I cast my brother out, so I do not know where he was reborn."

Jasmine could guess.

_You know that when I __**hate you**__, it is because I __**love you**__…_

…_to a __**point of passion**__ that __**u n h i n g e s**__ my __**s o u l**__._

Their first time in the cages had nearly ended in disaster. Nadja, a seasoned warrior in every sense of the word, had never felt the exhilaration of being cheered on by a bunch of mindless drunks. Mozenrath just wanted his Gauntlet so he could send all these foolish idiots to whatever hell their mad god promised them. They had been stripped and given just enough clothing to cover their vital areas; both had been given an iron mask to wear, a shield made of wood, and swords made of iron. Mozenrath could see Nadja's discomfort in wielding a weapon heavier than what she was used to, but it was nothing compared to the weight of it dragging his skeletal arm.

"Stick close to me…we will live longer this way." Nadja said from beneath the mask. Mozenrath snorted. "Easy for you to say," he retorted, "you're the one who uses swords as extra appendages." He couldn't see it, but through the eyeholes of her mask, he could see Nadja's eyes were laughing at him.

"This is not a laughing matter. You still need me to get out of here."

"Yes," she said, "yes I do. And you need me to cover your ass. Let's get to it!"

The Adder was having too much fun with this.

At last, the cage doors were thrown open and the two were led to the center, where they were booed by the crowd. Nadja heard catcalls in the tongue of these barbarians, and to keep the edge off, she nudged Mozenrath.

"Perhaps if we win, you will be courted by one of these fine gentlemen."

"The day I even dignify that with a laugh is the day you—" He didn't have time to finish as a deafening roar drew the surrounding crowd to hush. Nadja held her blade at the ready, and as Aoki came to sit on his throne in the stands, both Nadja and Mozenrath caught a glimpse of Jasmine.

Nadja could weep for the girl.

From her vantage point, Jasmine looked so frail and she was trembling, her eyes red with tears. Nadja bit her lip beneath the mask. There had been nothing they could do to prevent it. The best they could do was survive and escape with their lives at this point. Jasmine watched them, her expression lost between confusion and something else. Mozenrath felt his heart tighten in his chest. Though in the past he would have longed for her suffering…at this point her suffering made him think of how foolish he had become. Nadja breathed deep the scent of this newest battlefield, and when she exhaled, the gate was cranked up and from the shadows within crept Aoki's prized pet.

"I bring you, my vicious one, and pet sorcerer…the gift of blood and fire!" Aoki cried, and Nadja and Mozenrath heard something large struggling against chains. It stepped and the earth shook beneath their feet. Nadja grinned beneath her mask as finally she heard the chains beginning to snap, the screams as whatever devilry lurked within those shadows tore apart its captors.

"Be ready to run on my signal. We may need to separate," Nadja instructed, "keep the creature's attention divided." And then from the darkness burst the hydra. Nadja saw the twin heads and despaired. Even if they separated its attention could be divided. The creature was slick with moisture, its unhinged jaws prickling with fangs the length of a full-grown man's arm. Forked tongues lolled from each head's mouth, and blood stained its teeth, bits of recently shredded meat caught between. It's breath was acrid with the stench of devoured manflesh, and as a drop of saliva hit the ground, it hissed, eating away a hole in the earth. Nadja swallowed hard. She had fought a beast similar to this before, but it had been a leviathan, and she had the advantage of it not being able to track her easily on the ship…and she had the advantage of fodder to distract the beast.

She also had her daughter to fight alongside her…but now she had Mozenrath, whose prowess with a sort was remedial by comparison, and did she wish to use him as fodder. The hydra's twin pairs of nostrils flared, taking in their scents with renewed curiosity, turning its oxblood eyes upon them before letting out a roar of delight at more meat to feed its insatiable bloodlust. First, it swept its claws toward the pair, its four large claws would have broken them. Mozenrath lay flat while Nadja dove between its fingers, rolling to rise to her feet as Mozenrath hauled in the opposite direction. The hydra did not employ any of its advantages save its size and strength against the duo. Nadja noted that Mozenrath was rather agile despite his lack of martial skills, and he weaved his way around the beast's swiping claws. Nadja had abandoned the shield and when the beast swiped at her she blocked with the sword, and the forced send her tumbling backward, skidding to a halt. She was on her feet within an instant before Mozenrath pulled her aside as one of the beast's heads came crashing down, successful in turning the wall into a hole filled with dust and rubble.

"Who's covering whom, I wonder?" Mozenrath called as Nadja dipped left and him to the right. Nadja leapt onto the beast's tail, crawling up onto the back. She knew better than to cut off its head and instead began to hack betwixt the two heads, at the tender flesh that held them together. Mozenrath was familiar with the lore of the hydra, but not Aoki's beast of blood and flame.

It exhaled, and with it came flames. Mozenrath scarce had time to evade when his skeletal arm was singed from the attack.

"The heart!" Nadja called down as one of the heads turned to notice her, and it bucked, sending the Adder careening forward. A forked tongue wrapped around her ankle and she swiped at it with her sword, severing the slimy muscle before the saliva could burn her flesh as the beast howled in pain. She hit the ground, freeing herself of the severed tongue before she moved to hack at the beast's exposed chest. Mozenrath let the beast take a hold of his ankle and removed its tongue as well. It could no longer spit flame without first causing harm to itself. In a rage, it moved about and Nadja droved her sword within its chest. It was not enough to fell the beast by stopping one of its hearts, and so Mozenrath joined her, his skin reddened from the burn of saliva as he drove the sword in to the other side, piercing the second heart. Almost immediately the hydra stiffened, and in one last rage, attempted to blow fire. In its dying breath, only pungent smoke came, burning the duo's eyes into watering and finally it fell over with a heavy thud, dead. Aoki's jaw set, and her inwardly mourned the loss of his pet. It did not matter, as he had his little _aoi_, and had so recently devoured her purity. Now, as Jasmine sat watching in horror as Mozenrath and Nadja were forced to fight for their lives, Aoki gripped her hair, forcing her to look up at him. She saw her reflection in his dark eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and swollen mouth, looking every bit as violated as she felt.

"Do you love me, little _aoi_?" He asked her in a fierce, malevolent whisper. Jasmine could not answer honestly, lest she endanger herself further. Aladdin would be disgusted to look upon her now as she gave a weak nod of her head.

"Then command it," he whispered, his hand reaching to pinch a nipple between his fingers. "…command them to kill one another in the name of your love." Jasmine wanted to weep. Mozenrath and Nadja, their skin shining with sweat, dirt caked upon them from tumbling about the arena, watched.

"You love her, Mozenrath. Do something." Nadja said to him, her voice an earnest plea. Mozenrath watched, his expression hard, but there was a fury that simmered beneath his skin like a pot of boiling water with a feeble cover upon it. He could do nothing, not without his magic to aid him. He had been feeling the effects of being separated from his item of power, and being forced to rely on his body for strength was more difficult than he let Nadja see.

"I can not help her, Nadja. We have to find another way."

"And what is that?"

"We must slay Aoki. He will continue this…disgusting display of power if we do not."

"And you mean to take his power for yourself when this is finished?" In the roar of the crowd, they were the only ones who heard one another, while Jasmine was forced to command them.

"In the name of my love," Nadja and Mozenrath looked up at her, puzzled, "I command you to…" She was weeping and Nadja blinked behind her mask, lifting it to reveal her sweat-soaked face. Mozenrath did the same and Jasmine hated that she now had to look at him when she had fallen so far from grace.

"…kill one another!" She turned away quickly and Nadja and Mozenrath did not move. Mozenrath turned to look at Nadja and she was already facing him.

"It seems this is where we will be forced to part ways, sorcerer," she said, her voice unnaturally cool and Mozenrath's hands flexed. He could take her, but…why did they have to do this? Whoever survived would most likely meet a fate worse than death anyway. In his peripheral vision, he saw Aoki forcing Jasmine to her knees, and he wanted to vomit.

He'd do what needed to be done to save her and himself. He trusted Nadja could handle herself…and he would regret it should he succeed in killing her. As they circled one another like prowling predators, Mozenrath was aware of how Nadja favored one leg. The other was burned by the dead beast's saliva. Nadja did not move on the offensive, and as the crowd grew impatient, Mozenrath took the initiative and went after her. Almost immediately he knew what it was to be intimate with the Adder in a more…forceful sense. While she had submitted to him in the bedroom, surrendering her poison for a moment of uninterrupted carnal bliss, she was relentless when he fought to dominate her in the fighting arena, surrounded by common enemies on all sides, while a mad god looked down upon them and a princess was subjugated shamelessly. Nadja's hands clasped against the sorcerer's ribs and she lifted him, using his momentum to send him crashing to the sands on his back. Aoki cheered with glee, applauding Nadja's sleek prowess as Mozenrath clasped her burned ankle. Hissing in pain, she jerked but he jerked back with his skeletal arm, sending her upon a solitary knee as she came back to strike his face with her fist. The two wrestled upon the ground, with Nadja straddling the man in a way that was anything but sensual.

"Yield to me, Mozenrath. Pretend to die in my grasp…they will cast your body out…you can free us easier this way." Nadja whispered fiercely to him as she held him pinioned beneath her powerful thighs, the muscles along her bared arms flexing like sculpted chocolate. Mozenrath could not understand how so slight a woman possessed such strength. Even without pretending to struggle, he could not break her grip.

"I will not yield to you."

"They will kill you if you win."

"Aoki will _violate _you if I don't." He saw the sadness in Nadja's eyes. "I can endure that. But you need to get your Gauntlet…but first _live for me_." Then, she loosened her hold and Mozenrath attempted to tackle her. He would not yield to her, but for now, he had no choice. She wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to choke him. She did not let her grip tighten anymore than he could take and Mozenrath put on a show of flailing and struggling before he went still, pretending to die, his breath shallow, thought his lungs were starved for air. Nadja released him, biting her lip, and then nudged his "lifeless" body with her bare foot. She saw Jasmine cover her mouth and weep once more. Good. If Jasmine believed Nadja had killed Mozenrath, then Aoki would believe it. Nadja removed her mask and tossed it upon the ground, lifting her face to Aoki.

"Aaaah, my vicious one…I shall add you amongst the beautiful things I collect." Aoki said and he jumped down from his throne to the sands below, walking up to Nadja and gripping her chin.

"You shall be my blood-splattered champion, vicious one. What is your name?" Aoki leaned forward and she could smell pumice and brimstone upon his breath, tinged with wine. Nadja resisted the urge to sneer and responded calmly.

"Nadja, my lord." She hoped that Mozenrath's body was carried out and released. Instead, Aoki did not seem to readily care for the carnage around them. The hydra's body stank, and made her want to vomit, and Mozenrath lay still as if he truly were dead.

_Just a little longer._

Nadja ignored the inappropriate placement of Aoki's hands upon her breasts, then her hips. "Such a supple warrior. I shall enjoy making you cry for my blade, vicious Nadja." Nadja inwardly grimaced at the thought. Men of his caliber always made such disgusting innuendos. As she was led away along with Jasmine to be cleaned and prepared for Aoki's bedchamber, she saw Mozenrath's body taken and carried out, and prayed to whatever gods were listening that he would fare better than she and Jasmine were about to.

_I'm a __**slave of Karma**__._

_Spin the wheel and __**I'm a**__**king reborn**__._

_I'm a slave to Karma, __**I'm coming back**__, yeah I'll be coming back…_

…_but __**for the last time**__._

Mozenrath had never been treated so poorly since before he slew Destane. The warrior in charge of disposing of the carnage of the arena handled his body as if it were naught but a ragdoll. Several times Mozenrath had to crane his neck to avoid smashing his head in stone doorways, or maneuver his legs to prevent shattering his bones. Finally, he was dumped in a room which smelled much worse than it looked. Most likely the hydra's carcass would be preserved and turned into a meal to feed the mouths in this place. When the guard left, he stood, and leaned over to vomit. He wiped his mouth and made his way out. He had to figure out where he was, and find his way to Nadja. He hoped Nadja and Jasmine were at least using their own freedoms to find a way to him…and perhaps Nadja or Jasmine would retrieve the Gauntlet for him.

"All of this to conquer the Seven Deserts." At this point, Mozenrath didn't want the bloody kingdoms. He just wanted to return to his Citadel and find out how to obtain even more power that this may never befall him again. Quietly he made his way down the damp hallway, aware of the warmth of the stone floor beneath his feet. He was close to the bottom of the castle…and the lava was heating the place. He had to find the steps, and he had to find Jasmine and Nadja. Perhaps if he saved Jasmine, she would see that he meant her no harm. At this point, none of them could afford to betray the other in this hell they had been forced into. The darkness of the place indicated that this chamber of the castle was rarely used save to dump the dead, and the rest of the castle's corridors burned with torches that were kept perpetually lit. He found the steps, weathered stone slippery beneath his bare feet. That was another thing he wanted—when he returned to the Citadel he would soak in a bath until this nightmare was scourged from his person.

…but Nadja's touch he would _never _forget.

_You're __**such an inspiration**__ for the ways that I will never ever choose to be._

_Oh so many ways for me to show you how __**your savior has abandoned you**__._

_Your Lord, your Christ, __**took all you had and left you this way**__._

Nadja had been conditioned to mete out her emotions if absolutely necessary, but when Jasmine showed her the damage done to her body, she was hard-pressed not to feel a righteous fury. Jasmine's purity had been torn asunder and Nadja provided very little comfort, as she was not used to having another to care for after so long. She cleaned up, of course, and was soon garbed in a fashion that she deemed both ridiculous and amusing. If Aoki hoped to make her cry, then he would have to try his best—and do his worst. She had nothing to lose save her life, and that had been tallied to be worth about 3 million gold pieces in her own world.

She'd made thrice that much in the past six months…so she welcomed the end like a lust-starved bride.

Aoki came to her that night, and at first, he was gentle, making Jasmine watch.

"You see this, little _aoi_…this vicious one will not be given the same kindness of you." He struck Nadja in the belly, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her to her knees. Then, a hand fisted in her hair, shaking it from side to side. "She is durable, and she has experience. Perhaps she can teach you how to please your god." Nadja caught Jasmine's terrified gaze.

"My lord, please…" She didn't know what to beg for. If she asked to spare Nadja, then Nadja could very well be killed, but if she asked for Nadja to be left alone, then she would have to endure his wrath again. Nadja shook her head as much as she could in the iron-fisted grip on her head. Aoki smiled.

"I have something for you, vicious Nadja," he said delightedly, and went off to retrieve something. Jasmine, looking up to see Nadja trembling in Aoki's wake, whispered to her.

"He will kill us if we don't get out of here," she murmured, and Nadja could hear that while her resilience held, it trembled with hairline fractures that Aoki's abuse had inflicted upon it. Nadja could not readily respond, still breathless.

"He will kill us if we escape and he catches us. We need to…find Mozenrath's Gauntlet."

"You killed him!" Jasmine accused, tears in her eyes. Nadja shook her head. "So long as you believe that, then that is the way of it." Jasmine was furious that Nadja had neither denied nor confirmed that she had strangled their only hope for escape. And now she was to be made a whore for a god who had murdered his own brother because he "displeased him". Aoki returned with something in his hands. It was one of Nadja's blades, and Nadja wondered what he meant to use it for.

"See, vicious Nadja!" The god cried offering the blade to her. "I kept it, that you may have it always." And Nadja accepted the sheathed blade graciously. She assumed wherever he kept her blades was also where he kept the Gauntlet. The minute she could be reunited with both, she would get her and Jasmine out of this hell and find Mozenrath.

She should have never accepted that contract.

"Now, little _aoi_, come. I will show you how you two will work together to please me." Jasmine had no choice but to kneel beside Nadja who settled the blade on her hip. Aoki became distracted again, however, as a knock sounded at the door. Nadja hoped to the gods that it was not what she thought it was. When Aoki opened it, he peered outside, curious as a small boy, only to find his two guards incapacitated on the flood, with their throats gouged and a pool of blood darkening the threshold. Jasmine glanced at Nadja. It was Mozenrath's doing, she knew, but where had Mozenrath gone? Aoki frowned.

"Vicious one, come. I want you to find out who has done this…and bring me their head." Nadja, surprised that he'd chosen her for the task, and had not even suspected the treachery, looked to Jasmine.

"Find the Gauntlet. Use it if you have to…just get it and find me." Jasmine wanted to say more before Nadja was on her feet and ghosting from the room like an obedient pet serpent. Aoki turned to Jasmine.

"I will be back for you, little _aoi_, I will send someone to guard you." And Aoki was gone in a spiral of flame and smoke. Jasmine waited until she was sure the monstrosity was gone before she bolted to look for the Gauntlet. The bedchamber and its adjacent chambers were larger than normal, and she searched for the room where he may have retrieved Nadja's blade. She found it eventually, but was warded off by a thin wall of swirling orange…a barrier of magical flame. She saw Nadja's arsenal laying in a pile in the center of the room, and atop it was the Gauntlet. If she could find a way past the barrier, she could retrieve it. She would not heed Nadja's words; she would not put on the Gauntlet at any cost and become a slave to its immense power.

But even the Gauntlet paled in comparison to Aoki's will alone. Then she remembered Aoki saying that their kind were reborn when they died. Could Mozenrath have been Aniki reborn? She saw the resemblance, but Mozenrath had been nothing short of evil.

_Sometimes when the serpent of bondage…_

He had no choice, given his harsh upbringing, and Nadja knew more about him than she could ever hope to learn. Calming her nerves, and ignoring the fatigue that begged to be heeded, she placed her palms against the barrier, praying to Aniki for his strength. The barrier did not move for a wall and she stood there, praying to Aniki to awaken and save them from his brother's tyranny. Eventually, the barrier hissed and began to dissolve and soon she was pushed into the treasure chamber, looking upon the spoils Aoki had collected from the peoples of Amoria. Jasmine shook herself from awe and snatched up the Gauntlet. It felt remarkably cool in her hands, and had she not known any better, she would have assumed it was just a worn, leather glove—not an implement of magical destruction. On a whim, she took up the vest of stilettos and put them on. Nadja's ribcage was wider than her own, but she managed to fasten it tight. After figuring out where the rest of the blades were supposed to go, she deigned to try and move, and wondered how Nadja did it, so she removed some and shouldered the lightweight weapons, save for the sword on her back. Then, she left the room, slipping out of the bedchamber as a guard approached from farther down to guard Aoki's little _aoi._

_**Save your tears**__ for the day when __**our pain is far behind**__._

_On your feet__**, come with me**__, we are soldiers __**stand or die**__._

Now that his message had been received, it had only been an hour before Nadja followed his trail of corpses and found him.

"Where's Jasmine?" Was probably not the best inquiry to make to the woman who had desperately worked to protect him with her own life. Nadja's eyes narrowed momentarily but in her adrenaline rush, she deigned it fit to ignore him.

"She is on her own mission. Aoki is looking for you, and he will expect me to have your head on a platter when he finds you." Mozenrath's lip curled.

"Going to fake that death too?" Mozenrath intoned dryly and Nadja snorted. "Now is not the time for games. Come on, we have to find Jasmine before she gets hurt. She should have your Gauntlet and my blades if she played her cards right." Mozenrath and Nadja took off and the sorcerer still had time to remark at Nadja's attire.

"From gladiator to harem girl? You interchange masks as easily as I interchange interests."

"Only your interest has always lain with obtaining ultimate power." The two ducked into a darkened doorway as a trio of guards followed the trail Mozenrath had provided for Nadja to follow. They would be lucky if Aoki was not also interested in the trail of corpses.

"Where did you get all the bodies?" Nadja whispered, maneuvering against him. He chuckled, his breath hot in her ear.

"Where they dumped my 'corpse'. This place is a veritable graveyard." Nadja peered down both sides of the corridor and the two took off down the hallway, barefoot and barely armed—she with a single blade, and he with a skeletal hand.

"We have to find Jasmine soon," he reminded Nadja as she tore the flowing silks of the loin cloth that her legs would not be tangled within them. The metal coin-bedecked brazier would have been abandoned as well but she did not have time to unhook the clasp. The Adder skidded to a halt as they heard footsteps approaching fast, ducking into the shadows beyond the reach of the torchlight. As Jasmine ran past, Nadja reached out to snatch her by the arm.

"Jasmine! Shh!" Jasmine had almost let out a scream and had almost struck Nadja across the face before she was relieved to see both the Adder _and _Mozenrath alive and well. For a moment, there was silence before she explained what she had gleaned from her time in Aoki's bedchamber.

"You are the incarnation of his brother, Mozenrath."

"A scion of Epion _and _a reincarnated god, Mozenrath? How did you fall so far from grace?" Nadja mocked and Mozenrath glowered, pulling the Gauntlet tight over his skeletal arm. He was complete once more.

"To open a portal, you need only evoke Aniki's divine powers." Jasmine said as-a-matter-of-factly. Nadja and Mozenrath shot her skeptic looks.

"And how does one evoke a supposedly dead god?" Jasmine reached forward to press her hand against Mozenrath's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her warm palm. Nadja was unsure whether to feel uncomfortable or impatient.

"It's our only chance of escape." They could not destroy Aoki, but they could outrun him. And Mozenrath began to chant. The tongue was ancient, stinking of a magic that was raw and powerful, and it deepened his voice to an almost inhuman rumble—a divine _growl_. Nadja and Jasmine stepped back as the portal began to open, the air charged with power as the Adder spotted Aoki rounded a corner and she frantically glanced between the approaching god and the chanting sorcerer.

_Hurry!_

Mozenrath believed in gods, yes, but believing that he could evoke one was harder to swallow. Nonetheless, the more he wished to return home, the more Aniki's name came up in his inhuman chant, and the more stable the portal on the floor became. He focused his thoughts, the sound of angry shouts and Aoki's yell of rage buffered by the magic that engulfed him. Finally, with one final ripple, the Land of the Black Sand became visible and for the first time (and likely last), Jasmine had never been so relieved to see a familiar sight. Quickly, before Aoki could use his will to pin them, he open the portal in time to see Nadja beginning to choke as Aoki's will dragged her to her knees. Mozenrath kept the portal open as he urged Jasmine to jump the moment it stabilized. Aoki converged upon them like a shadow, fire and smoke cloaking his body before Mozenrath stood between the god and the assassin. Jasmine refused to leave them, but Mozenrath cried for her to go. She did. The portal remained open so long as he wore the Gauntlet—so long as he remained here.

He refused to leave Nadja.

"Think to deceive me, pet sorcerer? Think to deceive me—you lord and _god_?!" Aoki demanded, his will pressing in from all sides like he had been cast to the deepest parts of the ocean, and death by compression was inevitable. Nadja was screaming, but Mozenrath could not hear her—only his blood rushing to his ears, only his lungs desperately sucking at nothingness as breathing became a chore. Nadja's nose was bleeding and Aoki began to crush them both. He reached forward to wrap his fingers around Mozenrath's throat choking him with both will and strength as the sorcerer's life waned…and with it, the portal began to shrink.

_Do you wish to save her? Save them all? _The voice echoed in his waning consciousness, resonated within every fiber of his dying being, filling him with warmth he had never known in all his life.

_Love can save them, but you must first make of yourself a vessel in which you can see the light. _And Mozenrath began to die. He emptied himself of his thoughts, dreams, desires, flaws, shortcomings, everything. He emptied himself, and as the burden of himself began to lessen, it was replaced with the warmth, the _light _of his former self—the silver light of Aniki himself. The Gauntlet's painful life-leeching abilities halted as Aniki's will filled the corridors, bathing Aoki in silver light and causing him to drop the sorcerer on the floor next to the unconscious Adder. For a while, Mozenrath did not move, filled with the light of Aniki, filled with the love that was given unconditionally to supplicants and nonbelievers. When he looked up, his eyes were a quicksilver so distinct that it was as if the stars themselves had been thieved from the skies and placed within. There was a suffusing warming glow to his pale skin and he held out his Gauntlet to point at the large, fiery god.

"I do not deceive, Aoki." The voice was his own and it was not, resonating with a power that was beyond his mortal scope of imagination. "I merely reveal you for what you are—weak, childish, and unrefined." Love, light, and beauty—those were Aniki's godmarks and Mozenrath cast it upon Aoki like a net, draining Aoki's power as the god's temper got the better of him. For millennia he had ruled the land uncontested and here was his brother-reborn, leeching him of his strength. The portal had opened once more and Mozenrath scooped the Adder in his arms, watching Aoki writhe in agony of defeat, shrieking Aniki's name in dark rage. Mozenrath did not have the strength to kill him, having not fully evoked the starlight god's power, but he had severely weakened Aoki.

With Nadja cradled in his arms, he jumped into the portal, relieved as it closed behind him. They tumbled in the ways between the worlds, following the erratic pathway to the world they had summoned—to home. Mozenrath felt the light leaving him as he fell, felt the warmth and beauty that had nigh blinded him fade. Darkness covered darkness, and Aoki's shriek of fury echoed and faded into the night.

_Free…wanna be free, __**gonna be free**__._

_And __**move among the stars**__, you know __**they really aren't so far**__._

_**Feels so free**__. Gotta know free…please…_

_Don't __**wake me from the dream**__, it's really everything it seemed._

_**I'm so free**__…no black and white in the blue._

She awoke to darkness, and for a moment she feared that the nightmare reigned on. Instead, her vision began to clear, and the stars came into focus, wisps of cloud floating to block out their blessed light. The moon hung full and fat in the sky like a beacon she had not seen in ages. Her head began to pound in pain, her body howling from the atrocities endured in a world that seemed like such a distant nightmare, yet her body told her otherwise. As she rolled to her stomach, she struggled to sit up, and as her vision righted itself, she saw Nadja lying facedown in the black sand, and Mozenrath kneeling beside her. Jasmine, fearing the worst had come to pass, rushed to join him.

"Are we here? Back in the Seven De—your realm?" Mozenrath glanced to the Gauntlet, which had cooled since the casting of the god-evocation spell. Jasmine's fingertips touched Nadja's forehead. The woman did not move, and instead Jasmine looked up into Mozenrath's dark eyes.

"She is…she is unconscious." The sorcerer replied quietly. Jasmine looked around. They had landed a good distance from the Citadel. Then, she remembered.

"The _Immortalis_…did they…?"

"They can not. Even if they wanted to, they lack the will to bring to heel the magic of that place. Most likely they grew bored with this realm and returned to their world."

Or followed them into Amoria—were it only that. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief but still despaired for Nadja.

"I have to get home…but I don't want to return like this."

"Like what?" Mozenrath's question hung in the air between them, and Jasmine could not bring herself to say it. She was fallen from grace, shoved and pulled by a god, and she was unfit to be wed or accepted back into her father's arms without shame. Decorum dictated her thinking now that they were back in their own world, but in the end, Mozenrath reached forward to cup her face in his hands.

"The only one who will know what happened in Amoria are we three…and if you still wish to wed Aladdin, then you can tell him when you're ready."

"I never took you one for kind words." Mozenrath's gaze hardened.

"I am not," he replied shortly, "but no one should have endured what you did…and come out still thinking of the opinions of others." Jasmine smiled and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the sorcerer's cheek. Mozenrath drew back, feeling at once violated and curious, but no color rose to his cheeks. He was not so green to the charms of a woman—he had bedded the Adder after all.

"Thank you…but now that we are here, does this mean we are enemies once more? Will you still make attempts on my kingdom…on the peoples of the Seven Deserts?" Mozenrath was thoughtful a moment, enamoring a small smirk.

"I will consider my options, princess," he said ambiguously, "as of now I am drained from this recent attempt to overthrow you and your people. And no doubt that street rat of yours will be returning shortly to collect you."

Collect her, like she was a treasure to be recovered from thieving hands. He said it as if Aladdin thought of her as another lamp he'd found in that damnable Cave of Wonders. Mozenrath looked down at Nadja.

"Do you love her, Mozenrath? She risked her life to save you…to save us both. Surely you must care for her." Mozenrath looked up at her sharply, his features unreadable.

"I do not love her, Jasmine." He revealed naught else and Jasmine had to still her tongue which longed to press him to divulge more answers. He loved the Adder, but something in his eyes was conflicting, as if the Adder meant something to him, but not as much as someone else. Where did his heart lie, now? Was he still going to pursue this same, reckless path to power in light of all they had endured? There was a soft groan as Nadja stirred back to consciousness. Jasmine smiled, although it was half-mast and Nadja did not return it.

"We made it…?" The question was slightly slurred as her head still spun from the fall, and Mozenrath stood.

"Where are you going?" Jasmine asked. Mozenrath was beginning to teleport.

"Home," he said curtly, "I suggest you do the same." And then he was simply gone, leaving the two women stranded in his land with little more than a few scattered blades. Nadja, being back in a plane she knew, could now summon her Friesian mount. She placed her index finger and thumb to her lips and blew out a loud, piercing whistle that rippled in the night. There was a swirl like wind blowing, and hoofbeats as the Friesian crested a westward dune to come and settle next to the Adder.

"I can take you home…but you have to promise not to let anyone try to kill me." Jasmine smiled and Nadja helped her onto the hellion steed's back. As she gathered her blades, she glanced to the Citadel which stood ominously atop a barren cliff. She wondered if Mozenrath glanced back as she jumped up behind Jasmine into the saddle. Spurring the mount into motion, she rode hard for the East—to Agrabah.

_Everything is clearer now, __**life is just a dream**__, you know…_

…_it's __**n e v e r e n d i n g**__._

_I'm __**a s c e n d i n g**__._

Xerxes had hidden away while the _Immortalis _had torn the Citadel apart trying to make it a proper stronghold. Eventually, the ancient magic rooted within its halls had proven more of a nuisance to them than a steroid and they had left this world in search of the last _Viperinae_, and Xerxes assumed they had taken their search to Amoria as they said they would. Lamenting over his master's absence, he had wandered the halls aimlessly; Mamluks without orders were doing nothing but standing there, their sunken eyes staring blankly into space.

Imagine his surprise when Mozenrath made a rather quiet return, free of all the flashy fanfare that usually marked the sorcerer's triumphant appearance. Mozenrath took in his home with a solemn and detached air, and Xerxes slithered from the shadows, surprised at the sorcerer's appearance. His time in perdition had seen him honed into a fine-muscled man, his eyes harder, and an edge to him that was more physical than that of the magical variety. Mozenrath took one look at his familiar and for the first time, he was glad to be home.

But he still felt as empty as the halls he now wandered. Time without his Gauntlet had made him dependent upon the two women whom he had come to begrudgingly care for. He had almost forgotten the Gauntlet was there, and he looked down expecting to see skeletal fingers in lieu of worn, brown leather. As he found his private chambers, he stripped himself of everything including the Gauntlet and bathed, scouring himself of Amoria's rough taint and assuring he was clean—yet he was still unfulfilled.

"You are quite an interesting thorn in the side, little sorcerer." The voice had Mozenrath reaching for a weapon, and realizing he kept none, he was forced to rely once again upon the very thing which had nearly cost him his life. He looked around, an absorbent towel slung about his hips and found the _Aljenu _standing in the doorway, looking as impassive as he had on the night Mozenrath had summoned him. The sorcerer frowned.

"Am I? The same could be said of the _Viperinae_, but I wager you knew that."

"I did. What I did not wager upon was you being so foolish as to summon the _Immortalis_. Had you wanted the _Viperinae _brought to heel, you need only summon **me**." Mozenrath's lip curled.

"And risk some other ambitious young man summoning them to rise against me."

"She would not have done it. You know this." Mozenrath did not need to ask to know he spoke of the last of the _Viperinae_. He had watched her and the princess of Agrabah ride hard Eastward, and only one of them had looked back. Mozenrath's fist tightened, the Gauntlet resonating with power. The _Aljenu _stepped forward.

"The payment must be collected."

"We have suffered a great deal for my folly. _That_ is payment enough."

"Is it? You stand here and I can see the sickness of desire in you. You are torn in twain betwixt a serpent and a shrew, a princess and an assassin, and despite risking losing something greater than that glove on your hand you still can not bear to part with it. Foolish mortal."

"I have had it with gods for a while, _Aljenu_, do not try my patience." Mozenrath had had time to contemplate the revelation Jasmine had revealed to him, and Mozenrath deigned to begin researching the legends of Aoki and Aniki as soon as he rid himself of the _Viperinae's _god.

"Think you can evoke Aniki's might again, little sorcerer?" Mozenrath gritted his teeth and out of annoyance cast a spell toward the _Aljenu_, who simply bent it away from him and sent it shattered the large latticed window leading to the balcony. Mozenrath knew the futility of the situation and sighed.

"You would make me choose between the woman and my power."

"You were once a _god_, sorcerer…losing the Gauntlet will not be as bad as you might think." Mozenrath was not inclined to agree. He had suffered physically as well as mentally in Amoria without his Gauntlet to aid him. And yet…knowing that he had been a god in his past life, remembering the light, beauty, and love that had filled him with a strength that made the Gauntlet pale in comparison, knowing that he still could evoke that immense _power _as he was…it was a tempting offer. But it was not an offer the _Aljenu _was making, it was this god demanding payment for the services the _Viperinae _provided.

Services that included that night in the tavern with Nadja. Mozenrath frowned and sneered at the _Aljenu_.

"She does not love me. Neither of them does."

"You are a fool to believe that. Go to them and see."

"I will be slain on sight."

"Again, you are a **fool**."

And Mozenrath believed him.


	13. The Art of Healing

**Author's Note:** After mulling it over, I have decided I may go back and edit the last chapter; sort of like an "extended edition" of the escape scene which I admit was a bit of a _deux ex machina _on my part because I was tired, and the boyfriend was hovering, and my roommates were trippin' hardbody, etc. Sheesh. This chapter will be a bit calmer than others, since it will most likely be the most introspective. I have plans for Nadja and Jasmine, and of course Mozenrath, but right now…we need to go back to Agrabah.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt __**see my scars**__ and know that I had __**my wounds**__ and also __**my healing**__._

The ride to Agrabah was, for the most part, a silent one. Jasmine took in the familiar golden dunes with a distant reverence, as if she were not within her own body; as if she was watching herself in a dream. Now that they had escaped the fires of perdition, and the wrath of a childlike god, it settled and sank within her marrow what had happened to her. The Friesian sped at a pace that was unusual for a normal Arabian mount, and yet its gait was smooth and powerful that she barely felt the discomfort of the road…except for when she remembered the stinging ache between her thighs.

There had been so much blood…

Jasmine drew the _hijab _closer around herself, as if she could burrow within its plain folds and never be seen again. Being with Nadja helped, as she was sure the Nubian had endured worse scrapes than that…but at the moment Jasmine could fathom nothing else but her own shame and humiliation that she had been swiped from her pedestal of purity to shatter upon the stones…a broken woman fallen from grace. Not long ago, she and Aladdin had been lovingly planning their wedding, sharing adventures, and always he had been there to protect her from defamation, harm, and the covetous hands of depraved adversaries. But this had been different, and she had vowed she would not call Aladdin every time she needed help. She had vowed to help herself. It was why she knew the things she knew, had learned to fight and defend herself, and yet in the end all of it had amounted to naught when Aoki took hold of her thighs and pried her open like cutting open a bud and causing it to blossom too soon. There had been so much pain, and in the end, she was more shameful because she took pleasure in the new sensations the god had inspired in her body. Involuntary pleasure, but pleasure nonetheless; and when he forced her to her knees, she had debased herself to keep his furious and mercurial attentions away from the only two people who could save her.

Yet none of them were able to save themselves. They escaped with their lives, yes, but each had broken in their own way. Jasmine had veritably been sundered from herself, and none could help her clean up the mess. She did not expect Aladdin to possibly understand, and more than likely he would blame Mozenrath. He took them to Amoria, yes, but even he had not offered her up to the god as a sacrifice of the utmost purity, and he had not forced himself upon her. Her father…she would never be able to face him, nor anyone in the palace. If word got out that the princess had been defiled, Agrabah would be shamed in the Seven Deserts, and she would be bereft of her pride, the steel of her resilience bent awkwardly, making her weaker and more vulnerable. Mozenrath had been a god in his past life, a god of light and beauty who had been slain by fire and malice, reborn as a prince of Epion, and finally evolving into the cruel and calculating sorcerer she had fought so many times before.

And yet…she could no longer look upon him as her enemy. Not after this ordeal, not after he had willingly sacrificed his pursuit of power to protect her; to protect Nadja. The assassin had been inordinately silent on the journey, only speaking when she was telling the princess how long it would be before they reached Agrabah, and only offering murmured greetings when they awoke from their modest camp in the morning to continue their desert journey. Jasmine wondered how Nadja felt, how she had changed from cruel and heartless serpent, to a vicious champion on their behalf. She wondered if her father would pardon her crimes when he saw how she had sacrificed herself to save his daughter. She wondered if her father would pardon Mozenrath.

More likely, he would have them both struck in chains to await judgment. The people would not understand the depth of this ordeal, would not care. They had only past history on which to base their judgment, and that far outweighed the heroics displayed in the cursed land of Amoria. Somehow, she knew she had not seen the last of Aoki, and she prayed that his mercurial nature worked in their favor and somewhat else drew his attention.

It was mayhap two nights later when they crested the large dunes that overlooked Agrabah. Jasmine had been dozing in the saddle when she felt the change in the slope of the dune and when she opened her eyes and her vision focused, she could see the palace. Tears welled in her eyes, and she longed to see Aladdin, and she longed to lock herself in her room and weep until she was husk-hollow and there were no more tears to be shed.

She was home.

_The __**art of healing**__ comes from nature, not from the physician._

_Therefore, the physician must start from nature, __**with an open mind**__._

They passed into the relatively quiet city easily enough and Jasmine saw that there was no sign of harm, meaning the _Immortalis _had indeed chased the Adder into Amoria. Most likely, they would have a hard time getting out. However, when they reached the gates of the palace, Jasmine bit her lip.

"The guards will arrest you on sight, Nadja. I can not let that happen." She whispered and she heard Nadja's breathless chuckle.

"I've no energy left with which to fight more burly men who wish to have me struck in chains, Jasmine. I am…I am tired. I am sure the sight of you will divert their attentions." Jasmine did not know if it would be so simple, but nonetheless, she led Nadja around the white walls of the palace to the place where she usually snuck in and out of her own accord. Dismounting, Nadja sent the Friesian away into the shadows and the two scaled the ivy-covered wall and both concluded that it was the easiest thing they had done in weeks. Nadja adjusted her clothing and blades and Jasmine looked up at her balcony. The room was dark, as no one had been in it since she left for Madina almost a month prior.

"Perhaps we should find Aladdin, first?" Nadja suggested and Jasmine's gaze snapped up, her expression surprised.

"No! I…no…I can't let him see me. Not like this." Nadja said nothing, she understood. It was not an easy wound to heal, the tearing of one's purity. It would be a long time before she was able to be made whole once more, able to slip back into the familiar comfort of her easy life as a princess and it would be even longer before she could enjoy the company of her consort, the street rat, without feeling the sting of shame in her blood.

Nadja did not envy Jasmine her position, but she did pity her—and Nadja rarely pitied anyone their fate. Only, this wasn't supposed to be Jasmine's fate. It should have been _she _who was left to the mercy of Aoki's depravity, but Jasmine would not have lasted in the arena against the hydra. Perhaps it worked out for the best…and the worst.

_Can't have pleasure without the spice of pain. You taught me well enough, Aljenu. _Nadja thought bitterly as Jasmine made her way to the ivy that crawled along the white walls to her balcony. The two scaled that easily, having scaled a mountain to escape a sea of lava not long ago. As Jasmine made her way through the curtains, Nadja bit her lip, feeling awkward following Jasmine into her lavish bedchamber. The palace was large, but Nadja had only planned to be here if she were systematically taking the kingdom apart…not as a protectorate for a wounded princess. Jasmine stood by the mirror, where there was a picture of Aladdin on the dresser. Her fingers hovered near his smiling face a moment, trembling before she took her hand away. Too soon, she could not bear it. Nadja was standing in the middle of the room, looking very much out of place, like a splash of color in a grayscale world, only she was garbed in form-fitting black suede, and Jasmine's room was a riot of lavish blues and golds, plush carpeting beneath her booted feet and the scent of Jasmine's oils and perfumes wafted in the air. This room was so ardently _her _that Nadja feared disturbing her from her silent acclimation to her home once more. Then, there was a deep, rumbling growl and the Adder's brows furrowed in question. When she realized what it may have been, she had unsheathed her blade too late and a mass of orange and black had tackled her to the floor. Jasmine spun eyes wide as Nadja wrestled Rajah to no avail, his jaws snapping at her face, his claws poised to rend her flesh to shreds.

"Rajah! No!" Jasmine cried and moved to tug the large tiger's head. The tiger growled and after a moment's hesitation, moved toward Jasmine, sniffing her for her familiar, natural scent. When he confirmed that it was indeed his mistress, his growl died down to a melancholy purr, pushing his big head between her small body and slender arm, telling her all about it as he rubbed his fur coat against her, reclaiming the woman to whom his fealty was absolute and unerring. Nadja, still in shock, did not move to get up just yet, but the minute she did, she heard the warning rumble from the tiger.

"I will make of his head a trophy and his fur into a rug if he does that once more." Nadja said irritably and Jasmine laughed.

"He's never seen you before. And you look dangerous, so he probably thought you were here to hurt me."

"A long time ago, mayhap, but no one seemed inclined to attack me when my intentions were ill-will. Now, I am protecting you and I become a veritable meal for your pet beast." Nadja grumbled and Jasmine smiled. In her own way, the Adder had begrudgingly come to think of Jasmine in an almost younger-sister way, but she did not show her hard-born affection often, and when she did, it was esoteric at best to most, but Jasmine could discern the inflections of the woman's voice easily now. Nadja retrieved her fallen blade and slid it smoothly into the sheath she'd drawn it from—a sidedraw sheath at the small of her back. That was when the doors to Jasmine's room burst open and the guards crowded the doorway.

"Princess Jasmine! You're back! But how…?" Razhoul, the captain and loyal servant to the Sultan, took one look at Jasmine, and then to Nadja. Almost immediately, his surprised expression suffused to one of dark fury and he snarled.

"Arrest the snake! Quickly before she escapes!" His subordinates were quick, but the Adder was quicker. She had already bolted through the curtains and was diving from the balcony, twisting so that she tucked and broke her fall in a rose bush, sustaining the most minimal injuries she'd sustained since landing in Amoria. The cuts from the thorns did little to deter her as she scaled the ivy-covered walls, vanishing over the side. She'd be damned if she came all this way to deliver their princess only to be accosted by a tiger and arrested by an overzealous captain of the city guard. Nadja maneuvered through the streets as if she were born to them. She had to find Aladdin and tell him Jasmine had come home. She had a feeling his reaction would not be that much different than Razhoul's.

_It's so lonely when you __**don't even know yourself**__._

Despondency made him restless the first few weeks, and he had not given up his relentless search for his beloved. Genie had proven to not have been able to open a portal to Amoria, and after being cast into many worlds other than the one _she _was trapped in, Aladdin had almost given up hope. Without Jasmine, he had very little reason to be within the palace walls, and even less reason to be welcomed there despite the sultan hailing him as Agrabah's unlikely champion. And so, he returned to his small hovel overlooking the sprawl of the city, and rising like heaven—just out of reach—from the mire were the white wall and gold-domed spires of the palace. The sun had set long ago, twilight had fallen, and the stars studded the empty sky while the moon hid her face from the world. Iago and Abu were sleeping by this time, and Genie was in his lamp. Only Carpet sat by the ledge to look out at the palace with the street urchin.

"She isn't dead," Aladdin said, "I don't care what Razhoul says, Jasmine isn't some dainty damsel in distress. It doesn't matter where she is; she knows how to handle herself." But he had exhausted his resources to find a way into Amoria. He had even considered approaching Mirage but knowing Mirage would use that opportunity to destroy him, scoffing at his reasons for going to this strange world, he had decided against it. And twice he had gone to the Citadel, only to find it void of its master…void of life. The Adder, the sorcerer, and his beloved were missing, and while he couldn't have cared less about the first two, the latter caused an ache in his soul, an emptiness that was too deep to be filled with hopes that she would return to him alive. Aladdin had only his fond memories of their first meeting and their adventures together to keep the torch alight, and he vowed that if he ever saw Mozenrath or Nadja again he would make them pay for what they'd done not only to Jasmine, but to the people of this realm. Senseless cruelty all for the sake of power. For someone who never had power, and had never really needed it, Aladdin could not understand how deep the fissure of Mozenrath's ambition ran, or why that woman would help him for a mere sum of money.

"Mozenrath had better stay lost if he knows what's good for him." Aladdin said fiercely.

"And what, pray tell, would you do if he didn't?" The voice came from the shadows of the hovel and Aladdin's brows furrowed, and he glanced around. Carpet was searching for the source as well. Aladdin snarled.

"Show yourself. I know you're in here, you coward." Aladdin did not know to whom he spoke, only that he was angry and hurt, and wanted Jasmine back in his arms—where she _belonged_. From the shadows, as if they cloaked her like a pious lover, Nadja emerged, standing in his room like a _threat _that was never quite delivered. Aladdin wanted to attack, but he had seen the error of doing so without a plan. A month of soul-searching and just plain searching had leveled out his brash nature somewhat.

"Now, what sort of friend would I be if I left without saying goodbye?" Nadja did not know why she was being so condescending, so snide, but she knew that she was taking comfort in this cold patronization she limned Aladdin in. Dark eyes scraped over the drab surrounds like sandpaper over satin, and she spoke again, in a voice like smoke poured over gravel.

"Jasmine is back too, but I'd advise not disturbing her."

"You're not friend of mi—Jasmine? Where is she?! What have you done with her?!" Nadja's sneer was shared with the darkness before she came forward that he may look upon her in full.

"If you think, at this point in my time here, that I have anything to gain by doing _anything _to the princess, then you are more of a fool than I originally made you out to be." Aladdin did not understand. Last time he saw Nadja, she could not wait to slit their throats, and now she was speaking on behalf of Jasmine? Aladdin wanted nothing more than to see the woman pay for her treachery, to see Mozenrath pay for his own, to have Jasmine back. Nadja did not look moved by the burgeoning fury in the younger man's eyes, and she tracked his movements, keeping the dormant lamp within her sights as well.

"What's in it for you? You helping me; Jasmine?" Nadja's eyes narrowed.

"If you knew what I knew, you would know there is nothing in this for me. I daresay this will be the only act of contrition I will be performing at will." Nadja's inflection was cool, but she soundlessly closed the distance between herself and Aladdin. "Do not dawdle and dwell on pointless vengeance, street rat," her voice was gentle, like liquid beneath starlight, "she needs you now, more than she has ever needed you or ever will need you. You must go to her."

"And what about you? Where will _you _go? How do I know you won't go back to what you were doing before you three went missing? And where's Mozenrath?" Nadja's jaw set. Jasmine's ordeal was not hers to share, and so she bid Aladdin take a seat. It was then Genie blew from his lap, wearing a nightgown and feigning rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nadja was startled, but it only showed in the slight raise of her brows as she sat across from Aladdin. She began to tell them of the trials they had faced in Amoria, leaving out that Mozenrath had needed Jasmine for his plan to work. Aladdin was no fool, however, and when she purposely skipped the areas where Aoki had violated his fiancée, he guessed and filled in the blanks himself, but said nothing. By the tale's end, Aladdin felt numb and suspended. Nadja watched the sea of emotions bleed across his face like spilled dyes on a fresh white fabric and crossed her arms.

"Al?" Genie queried, placing a large blue hand on his friend's shoulder. At first, he had wanted to know if Aladdin wanted Nadja to be taken care of, but Aladdin was watching Nadja, his expression questioning.

"So you're going to go back to Mozenrath, then?" He asked, catching the Adder off guard and Nadja sucked her lower lip between her white teeth thoughtfully.

"I do not know, and if I did, it is of no consequence to you what I do." Aladdin did not pry any further. He could tell that she was in love with the sorcerer, which, depending on what Jasmine revealed to him, could bode good or ill for Agrabah. He was willing to stake his pending marriage on the latter. Nadja rose like water over rock from her perch and Aladdin tensed as she moved towards the way she came.

"So is Jasmine going to be alright?" Nadja turned to look at him.

"Would that I could speak so honestly, Aladdin. I'm afraid how she fares depends upon the passage of time…and you." And then the Adder was simply gone, and Aladdin was left with the pieces of his old life, wondering which shard he would begin with.

"Genie, I'm going to the palace. Alone." Carpet was already waiting for him, and Aladdin hopped on, taking off into the night.

_We always __**long for the forbidden things**__, and __**desire that which is denied us**__._

There were no answers. None! He had traveled far and wide in the breadth of a fortnight since he had returned from Amoria and gathered every source he could on the legends surrounding Aoki and Aniki. The only thing he knew was that Aoki was a god of fire and suffering, while Aniki governed water, starlight, the moon, and embodied all that Mozenrath currently _was not_. He had been a god of light and beauty in the past, reborn an arrogant prince that his father found unfit to ascend to power, and along with his mother, had been offered up to Destane as a gift if only Epion was left alone.

And still Destane had seen it turned to dust…and Mozenrath had stood beside him to do it. After all, Destane had defiled his mother's willowy grace and beauty, had broken her until even the depraved bastard could find no more pleasure in her pain. In the end, he turned her into a Mamluk, and in the end, Mozenrath had nothing else of value to lose save his life, and that had been worth nothing—even to himself.

But he had been a _god_. Is that what drove him mad throughout his life? He remembered Aladdin remarking on his age when he had proclaimed himself ruler of the Land of the Black Sand. He was older than most people thought, but Epion's royal line had always aged slowly and gracefully. His father had been approaching his seventies when the kingdom was destroyed. Mozenrath had forgotten his birthday, had forgotten his age—what did it matter? He wanted more power because he knew it was his birthright…and he was a _god_. The Gauntlet had only been a drop in the bucket in comparison to the power Aniki had governed. He had dominion over the very cosmos themselves! Mozenrath had poured endlessly over tomes and scrolls, scrapes of paper, and chiseled stone, had gone to places where it was rumored Aoki and Aniki had tarried in their travels—save Amoria, and now…he had exhausted his resources and could find no way to evoke the powers of his former glory. He was confined to one form, confined to being prince of a deceased kingdom, confined to being a sorcerer. Mozenrath saw blue light filtering through the windows and stood to see what was amiss.

The magical lanterns he'd positioned in the city leading up to the Citadel were ablaze, and for a moment Mozenrath assumed it was Aladdin who had gotten wind that he had return. No doubt he wished to exact some sort of vengeance for all that had befallen Jasmine, and his lip curled at the thought. Aladdin made for a poor protector in comparison to the hell he and Nadja had put themselves through to assure Jasmine too escaped with her life. And what had they gotten in return? Jasmine was most likely back within the safety of her palace, healing while Aladdin peppered her with brainless inquiries as to what happened and why she refused to be touched. Mozenrath was already dressing in his customary blue robes, adjusting the headdress as he teleported to the large doors, which yearned open at his will. After being so long powerless in a realm in which he could not discern reality from curse, it felt good to be in a place in which his power and word was absolute. When he expected Aladdin and his damnable motley crew of companions to be barking at his gates he was surprised to see a single Friesian mount waiting, and sitting astride like some African valkyrie was the Adder. The night breeze riled the wax-styled strands of her black hair, tendrils licking at the elegantly sculpted angles of her face. She neither smiled nor frowned but it was not her face as a whole that gave him the answer he needed…it was her eyes. Questions burned within them, and Mozenrath was unsure he had the answers. She had taken Jasmine home, had managed to return from Agrabah without bringing Aladdin and his friends down on her trail, and now she loitered on his doorstep, the Friesian as still as death, and her looking like a dream that was just out of reach. Wordlessly, he stepped aside and Nadja gracefully dismounted, the Friesian shimmering out of view before she entered the Citadel, the large doors shutting adamantly behind her as Mozenrath fell into step beside her. It seemed that neither of them had anything to say to one another, and what could they say?

Everything that needed to be said had been already, hadn't it?

"Why did you come back?" Mozenrath ventured at length, when the silence became so oppressive as to irritate him. The two entered his study, where the desk was a mess of scrolls, papers, and books marked with ink. Nadja spotted a few sketchings and realized Mozenrath had more than likely spent his time studying his past life, or whatever he could glean from it…while she had been busy trying to reunite the street rat with his broken princess. For a while, her fingertips brushed over the pages of a tome written in a tongue she could not read, bound in leather, with a shattered lock upon its side, before she looked up.

"If you must ask me that, then there is not point in answering?" Mozenrath frowned. He would not abide her evasive tactics this time around. She had come back for a reason, and he wished to know what it was.

"The Gauntlet." Nadja's brows rose.

"No." She said simply, quelling his burgeoning apprehension. The _Aljenu _had only wanted the Gauntlet because the way he worked was to show his contractors the price of power. In exchange for the conquering of the Seven Deserts, Mozenrath would have had to part with something equally as powerful; but in the end, the _Aljenu _realized that the venture had been unsuccessful and had cast a spell to extend Mozenrath's life a little while longer by slowing the Gauntlet's life-leeching curse, but warned Mozenrath that if he did not unravel his own mystery soon, the Gauntlet would begin to eat away his years at the same speed it had before he drank the Elixir of Life. Nadja wasn't here for the Gauntlet, so what had she returned for?

"Mozenrath, I have no where to go," she said suddenly, but there was no plea in her voice or in her eyes, "my companions are dead, and my god will no longer answer my call."

"So you came here…and what makes you think I'll let you stay?" The Adder's eyes hardened, narrowing to slits before her face changed, at once terrible and beautiful.

"You let me in, did you not?" Touché.

Mozenrath smirked. "Indeed I did, but why did you come back? You yourself said you made your home wherever you lay your head in the night. Why not stay in Agrabah? I am sure the princess' word would see your record expunged; see you appointed an honorary noble in the sultan's court, etcetera." He waved his hand, reverting back to that old arrogance he was renowned for. Yet, it seemed off, somehow, like trying to fit into clothing one wore as a child. That arrogance no longer seemed to suit him in light of all that had happened. Nadja saw this, and she closed the distance between them in a few quick, soundless steps.

"And all that has happened between us means nothing to you? I worked to defend you and Jasmine, you defended us…you would cast me out to continue this…this paltry pursuit of power? You were a god in your _past _life Mozenrath, and only when you—" Mozenrath did not want to hear her say that, and he jerked her close, claiming her mouth with his own, startling Nadja into stillness and blessed silence. Mozenrath drank of her mouth as if he had thirsted in the very desert he ruled. He drank and drank and still his thirst went unquenched. This time, it was Nadja who pulled away first.

"Stop this, Mozenrath." Their lips hovered a hair's breadth from one another, their eyes keeping one another pinioned beneath unwavering gazes. "Stop playing these games. You love Jasmine, and you said yourself that _you do not love __**me**_." The sting of his own words sobered him and the two separated and Nadja looked at once hurt and angry. Mozenrath had told Jasmine he had felt nothing for Nadja resembling love. Lust, of a surety, but love? He could not fathom it. But that had been what he told Jasmine. What he told himself was another matter entirely. And the hurt in Nadja's eyes should have pleased him, and yet it did not.

He felt awful inside; sick even.

"Nadja, I did not mean that." And all at once the Adder exploded into fury.

"Then what did you mean?!" She practically screamed at him, shattering the quiet of the Citadel as her hand swept across the table, knocking a book and a few scrolls and loose-leaf papers to the floor. "Tell me what you meant and be done with it!" He saw the shine of tears in her eyes. Ah! Her pain would have been so sweet had he renounced his love for her, his adoration of her lethal prowess, her sharp and agile wit and mind, her cutting beauty, her ability to be likened to water and adapt to any situation she found herself in. He had reveled in that singular night they spent together as she finally lavished her legendary gifts upon him unasked and without a price. But he knew that dealing with the Adder was courting a gambit many in other realms hastened to avoid—with their lives as the gambit, and their heart in the fray.

How much of this Nadja he had seen over the past month had been a mask, and how much of it had been real? But then again, was that not the point of love…to trust that the other person was as true as you were? Mozenrath breathed as Nadja kept him within her tear-splashed gaze. He closed the distance and Nadja shifted one foot back on instinct. Instead of backing down for fear of finding himself at the receiving end of one of her blades, his hands took hold of her waist, feeling the padding that kept the stiletto daggers hidden from view and readily detectable when one gripped her. He drew her close, pressing his lips to her forehead, breathing deep the scent of the deserts and her own spicy scent from her hair.

"Would I have welcomed you back if I did not love you?" It was not enough, so he continued. "I was unsure of if the part you played in Amoria had been a mask, another string to tug us along in your mind games, Nadja. It is why I denied myself the pleasure of enjoying you fully—openly—all this time. It is why I told you I would grow to love Jasmine should my plan succeed." He explained himself and Nadja listened, but it was not what she had longed to hear from his lips. Neither of them would say those words, not until weapons and wizardry were stowed away and they could come together without sleeping with a blade under the pillow.

"Mozenrath, I did not expect to…to…" _To what, Nadja? _The sorcerer asked, though not aloud. Nadja knew that is what he wanted to know.

"To _love _you. Everything you were, everything you are, everything I know you will be." It was a bared moment of weakness for the _Viperinae _who had always fancied herself in control of everything linked to her life. Mozenrath knew she meant it, else she would not have opened the cold, ice-slick iron of her heart to him thusly. He had known the Nubian almost a year, and he had been dazzled by her, but he had not expected such an arrogant serpent to humble herself before him. Pulling away he decided to look upon her face, and it was blissfully free of the chill of defenses that had often masked her emotions from the world—from _him_.

"Nor did I expect to love you. Want you…yes, but never love." Leather fingers traced the elegant sculpture of her face, the plush petals of her mouth, the aristocratic sculpture of her nose, the sleek line of her jaw, tilting her chin up to press a much-coveted kiss to her. Jasmine's heart could never be his, he knew this, but nor could he give his own to the princess when a serpent had wrapped her coils about it protectively, taking it as her own.

He felt strangely relieved. Perhaps he was not such a fool as the _Aljenu _had stated. The kiss became far more demanding, and in the end, Mozenrath and his serpent retreated to the sanctity of the bedchamber. They loved, they hated, and all that had not been said and done between them during their time in hell was impressed upon their minds as fingers and limbs entwined, lips leaving signatures of sunlight and starlight upon eager flesh, whispers of beseeching and encouragement from a serpent's duplicitous lips and then quelling murmur of a sorcerer's command that she still her cries while he bestowed upon her a gift that was neither magical nor divine…it was simply him. In the end, the two lay entangled, free of curses, mad gods, and forced depravity. They lay on their sides then, with Nadja's gaze holding the tempered passions of a woman who had never before used her art as an act of love rather than an act of seduction. Her hair spilling over her bare shoulders like a river of black silk, and she looked upon the prince, the god, and the sorcerer who wore one face atop three identities. Slender pianist's fingers reached forward to trace the fullness of his mouth and Mozenrath pressed a kiss to her fingertips, eliciting a gentle and easy smile as she pulled her hand away, only to have her wrist captured and him pulling her closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest.

"Ever loved a god, Nadja?"

"_Former _god," she corrected and Mozenrath ignored the stinging lash to his pride, smirking.

"That will change in time, you'll see." Nadja pursed her lips, smoothing her hand along Mozenrath's pale arm. Suddenly, it occurred to Mozenrath he had not yet asked the question that burned like a brand at the back of his mind.

"Nadja, when you…put on the Gauntlet that night in the mountains…what did you feel?" Nadja pulled back to look at the Gauntlet which was on his other hand. Thinking for a moment she chose her words carefully.

"It was like gripping a bolt of lightning, as if I had swallowed the sun and it attempted to burn me from within to without, and then there was this feeling of suspension—and pain. Pain that was as terrible as if I had dove into a sea of lava, only all of it was focused on my arm. When I got it off, my flesh looked so pallid and drained of energy."

"Had you kept it on, your arm may have matched my own." Mozenrath spoke in jest, but the underlying steel held the inflection that had Nadja tampered too long with his weapon of choice she would be caressing him with skeletal fingers as opposed to a normal arm. Nadja inclined her head. "It is why I took it off. Had there been no price to pay, I may have kept it on and been able to battle Aoki."

"Don't push your luck. You're skilled, one of the best I've seen…but Aoki is a god, and even he managed to overpower me when I had it on." Mozenrath watched the Nubian take on a look of mock indignation as she sat up, the silk coverlet slipping from her naked body. When she moved it was likened to a prowling jungle cat rather than a woman. She walked in a way that made her body alluring despite the fact that had she willed it, she could have snapped his neck. Instead, she was heading to the balcony.

"Will you continue your conquest of the Seven Deserts? Or will you pour your time into trying to reclaim a life that is no longer yours?" Mozenrath followed, but unlike her, he put on a pair of trousers first while she leaned against the railing in all her nude glory. His eyes swept covetously over her body bathed in silver moonlight before he responded.

"Of that, I am not certain. I do not see the point of conquering the Seven Deserts when there are other worlds that could bend to my whim."

"And if you manage to become Aniki once more? What then will you do?" Mozenrath's expression was serious.

"Defeat Aoki?" Nadja stood abruptly, fixing Mozenrath with a serious gaze.

"You are doing this to return to Amoria? Mozenrath that may be suicide."

"I will be a god of equal if not more power by that time. I have to destroy him. He may come into this world and interferer with what I have going on here."

"I highly doubt it. His attention is easily thrown off course." Nadja ignored the cool breeze that passed between her thighs. Mozenrath noted the slight shiver and drew her closer.

"But if I destroy him, I may be able to acquire his power as well." And Nadja narrowed her eyes.

"At what cost?" Mozenrath did not deign to answer her. His hunger for power was insatiable, but Nadja feared it would be the end of him if he attempted to acquire his former god-powers as well as that of his "brother's".

But far be it from her to stand in his way.

_Stars shine __**only in the sky**__; and stars which fall to Earth __**never shine again**__._

Jasmine had refused to speak of her ordeal with her father or anyone, and she had sequestered herself in the sanctity of her bedchamber with Rajah. Against the princess' wishes, her father had put out a bounty on both Nadja and Mozenrath, and Jasmine knew this was partially her fault. For her silence, Nadja and Mozenrath were both condemned as the culprits of her suffering. Jasmine watched nightly from her balcony as she heard the guards set out to search for the elusive Adder, as eager bounty hunters and ambitious noblemen rode out to the Land of the Black Sand and returned empty-handed. Jasmine still felt far-removed from the world, as if she were not there at all, and simply watching the events unfold like a catatonic dreamer. It was why, when Aladdin showed up on her balcony that evening, she had been…quiet.

"Jasmine…" His voice was a bloom of love amidst the wasteland that was her psyche, and he took her into his arms, cradling her like a child against his chest and she breathed deep his scent as if it were a heady narcotic, hoping it would wake her from her nightmares, wash away the pain, the humiliation…the _guilt_. Jasmine pushed him away, feeling tainted in his arms, as if she did not deserve to bask in the balm of his unconditional affection. Puzzled, Aladdin followed her inside her bedroom, ignoring the lavish surrounds and focusing solely on the woman who had stolen his heart so many years prior. Yet, there was something melancholy about her that hovered over her head like a small rain cloud, a sadness that had seen the proud line of her shoulders slightly stooped, had seen the proud length of her straight spine curved, that made her hands trembled when she was near him.

Aladdin ached for her, as in the past, he could be the balm to mend her pain. But this was different, this was a burden he could not share because it was hers alone to bear, nor could he heal her in any way he knew. Keeping his distance, he saw the dark circles beneath his lover's eyes, knowing that nightmares chased her from sleep and forced her back into the waking world. From the tangled sheets of her bed he could tell she was restless in the night, afraid for her life, afraid that whatever had broken her in Amoria would somehow find her here where high walls and loyal guards and a pet tiger had often been a source of security. Rajah hovered by her bedside, sensing her dismay and for days had been the only comfort she had, unable to understand the depth of her pain, but provided a comfort Aladdin's love could not at the moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Aladdin asked and Jasmine merely fixed him with a dead stare, shaking her head. She had not spoken of it with anyone save Nadja, and even then, it had been brief. Nadja had already guessed at Jasmine's fate, and the princess remained tight-lipped about the ordeal for fear speaking of it would reopen the wounds inflicted upon her body while salt was poured on those of her mind.

"Mozenrath will pay for this…it's his fault that this has happened." Jasmine shook her head.

"He also saved us. Protected us from the worst of it."

"Jasmine…what happened to you _was _the worst of it. I've a mind to go out and catch those two myself." He stopped when he saw Jasmine's expression. She was angry. "Do not judge them. Evil like that brought out the best of them, and though I suffered for Mozenrath's folly, he made amends by defending me with his life! I do not judge you for being a thief, do I?" Aladdin drew back. That had stung. She had compared a spoiled, wealthy sorcerer with a god-complex to him. He stole because he was left with no choice. He stole because he could not afford to eat everyday, and now, he realized how ignorant of his lifestyle Jasmine truly was.

"Jasmine, you can't compare me to that creep. He's as rich as you are—and just as spoiled apparently. Maybe if you lived your life on the streets for eighteen years with no one at your side but a monkey you would understand. I only want to get the bastard who caused this to happen, and when I last saw, it was Mozenrath who opened that portal and tried to toss us all in there."

"But it was Mozenrath who pulled us out." Jasmine countered quietly, her voice shaking in a juxtaposition of fury and hurt. Aladdin regretted losing his temper and moved to make an apology.

"Jasmine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. It's just that…Mozenrath wouldn't help anyone unless he had something to gain from it. How do you know he and Nadja aren't conspiring to continue their work on conquering the kingdoms as we speak?"

"I don't, but I know for certain that he won't move to harm us. Neither will Nadja. Nadja has the least to gain from continuing her contract, especially since her own comrades paid for it with their lives."

"She went back to him, you know." Aladdin said suddenly. Jasmine looked up, drying her eyes, surprise alighting her features.

"Did she? I knew she would. She's in love with him, and he's in love with her."

"And you don't think that's a bad thing? For us? For everyone?"

"If you were in Amoria, you would know why, but you couldn't possibly understand what that sort of ordeal does to people—good or evil people." Aladdin didn't want to understand; because he knew the moment Mozenrath recovered he would return to his old tricks—men like him never changed. Aladdin had seen it in many of his enemies who toted the banner of reform. Sadira had been one of them, and she had been no different from him. Same lifestyle, but she had no chance to better herself by finding a handsome prince to marry. Aladdin had gotten lucky…but Sadira had been left with the option of using sand magic. Jasmine didn't understand what living on the other side of the white walls did to people…and five years had seen her still as oblivious to the common folk as she was when she was a teenager.

"I'm still going after them."

"Aladdin, don't." Aladdin stood up and leaned to press a quelling kiss to her forehead.

"I just need to make sure he's not planning something against us. Especially with you as you are, now."

Aladdin left before Jasmine could explain everything, including the reason why she knew Mozenrath wouldn't harm her.

The logic of the heart was absurd.


	14. The Unseen

**Author's Note: **I replaced Chapter 12 for the curious. This chapter came out strange to me, but I felt it necessary for the future chapters I will post regarding the nature of Mozenrath's crimes, Nadja's Machiavellian machinations, and how Mozenrath will evoke Aniki's power again. This story is getting a lot more complex than I expected. Read and review, as usual. :)

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_Do you remember when __**we fell in love**__? We were __**young and innocent**__ then._

_Do you remember __**when it all began**__? It just __**seemed like heaven**__, so __**why did it end**__?_

The tranquility of morning at the palace had always been a consistent reminder of the trappings of her station when she was younger. Over the years, as her father allowed her a degree of leniency not afforded women of the land, she came to think of the high white, ivy-sprawl walls as a home-base, and in light of recent events, they had become a safeguard against the world beyond Agrabah, the home unto which she was born and bred—nurtured at the breast of a wet nurse, lovingly doted upon by her aging father who had in her absence become a much more stern ruler. For all his childishly silly good nature, he had not come to power and ruled for twenty-one long years for lack of a shrewd mind. It was why when he finally opted to approach Jasmine directly about her ordeal, she was left with little choice but to speak on it. It was just the two of them, as it rarely was these days, and the gentle whisper of the fountain provided an uneasy soundtrack to Jasmine's blood-saturated tale. He listened, his expression grave, his white brows furrowed as Jasmine recounted the nightmare that had befallen them. It had been nigh a month prior, and seeing that the bounty on Mozenrath and Nadja had not diminished in that span of time, it was why she was so quick to tell him now, that he may know Mozenrath had no role in her suffering, and Nadja had done all she could to save her. When she finished, his expression remained pensive and grave, as if he were considering and weighing his options.

"But why would Mozenrath help anyone if he did not stand to gain?" Her father asked at length, and Jasmine bit her lip.

"During our ordeal, we were forced to depend on one another if any of us wished to survive. I suppose, over time, we grew to care for one another." The sultan looked unconvinced and Jasmine quoted one of the philosophers she had read about.

"Evil draws men together." She stated and her father's dark gaze settled upon her with startling clarity.

"Yes, but how long is the quandary we face, now. If Mozenrath is allowed to be pardoned for all his previous crimes because he saved you _once_," and he ignored Jasmine's open-mouthed protestation with a raised hand, "then what is to stop him from taking advantage of the act of clemency? Nadja is a rogue assassin, and she singlehandedly managed to undermine the foundations of the neighboring kingdoms, and murdered one sultan before he could provide an heir to at least rule in his place and keep the kingdom from falling into chaos. Madina is a mess, Jasmine, and the people there are bordering civil war. Persis was set aflame not two months ago, and much of their harbor was destroyed—are you really adamant about defending the people responsible for such treachery?"

"But that was different!" Jasmine had not meant to raise her voice and her father's expression turned cold. "Please, lift the bounty from their heads. At least let them stand a fair trial."

"Their case will not hold up against council, Jasmine. Nadja is wanted in six kingdoms for high treason, murder, larceny, debauchery, amongst other things. And I hope I do not need to recount the laundry list of crimes Mozenrath has committed against Agrabah alone—against _you _and Aladdin." Jasmine pursed her lips against the truth. Love had no place in the courtroom, and she held no doubt in her mind that she would be the only one to stand in their defense. Still, they deserved a fair trial the same as any wanted criminal. Nadja had only been acting under orders from Mozenrath, which did not make their case look any better for it. Her father stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes.

"I will not lift the bounty from their heads, but I will amend that they are to be brought in alive and unscathed or the reward will be void—then, we will see about their trials." Jasmine looked dismayed but her father was resolute in his decision, and for the first time in a while, was not to be swayed by Jasmine's headstrong sensibilities.

"I will send a physician to attend to you to assure you are healed properly. With this recent act of treachery, your wedding will have to be postponed until peace is restored in the land. Until then, I ask that you remain within the palace." He sounded almost cold to her. "What happened to you is cause for grief, but should you wander outside these walls again, it may only get worse. _This _is why I worry, Jasmine…but we can salvage from this whatever is left." And then he left her; her sweet, loving, doting father had gone from doting to strict and clinically detached. Jasmine felt numb and hollow inside. Everything had changed—everything and nothing. She felt as if she had returned and all of her family and friends had been replaced with…with colder versions of themselves. She wondered if Nadja and Mozenrath would allow themselves to be captured…or if they would fight alongside one another. She wondered if she and Aladdin could ever rebuild what had been burned to ash and tinder by Aoki…she wondered too much and retreated into the palace to wander its hallowed halls in suspended silence. She had to warn them somehow, but she had to slip from the palace undetected…and she would have no magical aid lest her father or Aladdin find out.

_But look what happened last time you wandered off without telling anyone…_The guilt stung at her eyes and she rubbed away the burgeoning tears before they could fall. Briefly, she wondered if Genie would escort her to the Land of the Black Sand. He had always been free of judgment, free of being quick to condemn enemies. Millennia of living had seen him to be the wisest of all of her friends despite his silly mien. Jasmine knew to get to Genie it would mean facing Aladdin again and she was unsure she could hold the bent steel of her resolve together to plead her case to the only one who would listen. Somehow she had to relay a warning to Nadja and Mozenrath that should they think themselves free to roam the Seven Deserts, that they were now the most wanted criminals in the realms. Jasmine touched the bared flesh of her belly, tracing the path where Aoki's claws had marked her. The tracks of his wrath and unkempt lust had faded, but only physically. In the day, the sunlight chased away the memories, and she distracted herself with books and art, with Rajah and anything that would keep her mind from veering back to that same path.

At night, the nightmares came, and she envied Nadja and Mozenrath their positions. At least they had come out whole, where as she could not fathom being whole again. Despondency began to fester in her heart, and she felt a pang of resentment towards the Adder that she was able to slither her way out of Amoria with only a few scars to show for it. Why had it not been _her _chosen to suffer at Aoki's hands? She was the one who reveled in bedsport! Why had Mozenrath defended the one who needed no defending instead of coming to save her before Aoki could tear her apart?

Jasmine felt the bitterness well in her throat like bile, filling her mouth with distaste and disgust and she suddenly hoped that the two were brought in alive that she may name them both as treasonous criminals and sentence them to death herself. Jasmine hand clenched to a fist on her belly and hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. It had been Mozenrath who had been the catalyst of this tragedy, who had pitched the Seven Deserts into a state of civil chaos, who had dragged them to Amoria, who had allowed Jasmine to be defiled while he pined for Nadja's affections and lusted after her. It had been Nadja who had assassinate Dastan, who had seduced the sultan of Persis, who had intruded upon their world—their _lives_—and ruined them, dazzling them all with her beauty and wit, her charm and lethal prowess. As Jasmine lost her reasoning, she blamed the duo for her suffering and silently condemned them as she stalked toward her room to sneak from the palace. She would bring those two to justice—it was what needed to be done, and only she was capable of luring out the sorcerer and his serpent lover.

_In a world where __**all are guilty**__, the __**only crime**__ is __**getting caught**__._

Night fell in the Seven Deserts and with it came the moon and stars, blinking indifferently upon the sun-warmed dunes, liming the vast landscape in silver light. Beneath the unfettered gaze of the waxing crescent, a Friesian mount stood on an Eastern dune, next to a black mare that paced uneasily beside the fearsome steed. Nadja observed the landscape with a critical eye before she moved to pull down the scarf that covered her nose and mouth.

"You are certain this will work?" She asked and the sorcerer was already dismounting, the gentle breeze ruffling his blue and black robes, passing through him like a breath from heaven. Nadja followed suit, taking the reins of both mounts and leading them a good distance away. Mozenrath stretched.

"It said that his power is best evoked beneath the light of the moon and stars," he replied as Nadja came to stand by his side, her expression apprehensive as Mozenrath clenched his Gauntlet-hand into a fist, blue energy resonating from it. "You may want to take cover in case this doesn't work." Nadja cocked a brow, but she slipped off to join the mounts as Mozenrath began to concentrate. She had wanted to tell him that the last time he had evoked Aniki's essence there had been neither moon nor stars to bathe him in their coveted, silver light. Nadja watched as Mozenrath was engulfed in blue energy from the Gauntlet, and she saw none of the silver light that had suffused his skin with a starlight glow when he had drained Aoki of power. She saw only the malevolent force of the Gauntlet and when that faded, Mozenrath stood, a bit winded, but not sporting the likeness of his godmark.

"Why does it not work? Aniki's power is evoked by moonlight and starlight, is it not? Hand me the book." Nadja reached into one of the saddlebags as Xerxes slithered out to look over her shoulder.

"Mozenrath not powerful enough?" The eel hissed and Nadja wrinkled her nose at the creature's foul breath. She did not understand why Mozenrath kept the creature around, but far be it from her to question his motives in _that _regard. Retrieving the leather-bound tome scripted in a tongue she could neither read nor pronounce, she brought it to Mozenrath who snatched it and began flipping through the pages. Nadja, ignoring the slight, watched him in cool silence as he sped through lines of archaic text. Of all the information he had gathered on Aoki and Aniki, this tome provided the most details as to their nature and evocation. Nadja did not understand why this meant so much to him. Aniki had been him in a past life, and Nadja had studied the nature of Karma—that life was not what he was meant to be right _now_. But to reborn an arrogant prince-turned-evil-sorcerer meant that Aniki had not been a pure embodiment of light and beauty as the legends portrayed him to be; a lesser of two evils was Nadja's guess. Mozenrath frowned and let out an irascible growl. Raising her brows she took the tome from him before he had mind to incinerate it, and queried as to whether he found what he was looking for.

"Well, obviously not else I would have dominion over all of the land by now." He retorted acidly and Nadja chuckled.

"Well, perhaps you should think upon the events leading up to your previous experience as a god. I am sure in your eagerness to acquire ultimate power; you have overlooked some minute detail, something important, perhaps?" Her tone was saccharine sweet and Mozenrath would have none of it, shooting her a glare. "And perhaps you would like to become a footnote in history if you keep patronizing me thusly." Nadja chuckled again and returned the tome to the saddlebag.

"I wouldn't dream of it, love; just making a suggestion that you should retrace your steps. What is it that made that moment different from any other? Why does Aniki not answer your call now?" Nadja enamored him a wicked smirk. "Perhaps he has seen what you intend to use his power for and is displeased. Gods are not known for being steadfast in blessings with their supplicants—even the self-proclaimed good ones." There was a bitterness that lacquered her words and Mozenrath did not let it go unnoticed, determined to repay her for the slight she'd done him moments earlier.

"And does the same go for your master, that damnable _Aljenu_?" He asked slyly and he could see the lines of Nadja form stiffen slightly before she slid smoothly into the sheath of an answer.

"Especially. They are the most fickle deities I've ever seen. Worse so than trickster gods, to whom fickleness is the temple in which they dwell."

"What manner of god are the _Aljenu _anyway? What do they have dominion over that they would need human hands to do their bidding?" Nadja's eyes hardened and she crossed her arms, letting the answer slide from her lips as if rehearsed.

"Fate." Mozenrath pursed his lips. He should have guessed, what with both sets of lethal warriors being so inclined to assassination and stealth, carrying out fate's orders in the darkness, undetected and unseen. Nadja waited for him to resume his attempts at godhood, surprised when he came to join her. "Something is missing," he told her and she smiled. She knew what it was, but this was his journey, and while the entirety of the journey could be shared, there were some roads to the destination which could not; this was one such path, and Nadja's silence galled him. "You said you would aid me. Your silence has done nothing to attest to that oath."

"I never swore an oath in blood and stone, Mozenrath. I said I would aid you as best I could, but there are some answers that you must discover on your own. I am sure you understand the nature of the quest you've taken up." Mozenrath did not respond, knowing the truth of her words, and what they would merit should he not heed them. Instead, he mounted his horse again and Nadja hesitated before swinging into the saddle of her Friesian.

"We've done enough for one evening. We'll return to the Citadel and continue on the morrow." Nadja acceded with an incline of her chin and the two rode toward his kingdom as if hell dogged their mounts' hooves. When they finally reached the Citadel they were greeted by a sight that while both had seen before, never had it been quite like this.

The sultan of Agrabah was serious in his desire to bring the two to justice, and Nadja's expression was grim. There were at least forty men stationed at the Citadel's doors, armed as if to descend in war upon a rival kingdom when the only threats the Black Sand yielded were its lord and master, and his lover who wielded no strong magic. At the lead was Razhoul, who seemed all too eager to capture the Adder and Mozenrath. Mozenrath raised his Gauntlet and Nadja's hand shot out to still his spell-weaving.

"Wait," at Mozenrath's annoyed expression her steely grip did not relent, "if we are brought to Agrabah, we will be given a chance to explain ourselves." Mozenrath growled, disregarding her words.

"They will have us struck in chains and executed like common treasonous nobility. You, they may spare, but my death is certain…and I've no interest in dying at any given time." His voice was fierce as Nadja's Friesian mount paced to and fro nervously, causing his own mount to snort in apprehension. The group of warriors—mercenaries and palace guards alike—approached, weapons at the ready.

"Nadja Maharat and Mozenrath, I am Razhoul Al-Aziz, Captain of the Guard of Agrabah, and I am hereby placing the two of you under arrest by order of the sultan." Mozenrath said nothing, bathing Nadja in a scalding glare.

"You had better be onto something." He muttered, lowering his hand. Nadja's grip relaxed, and she snapped her black gaze to the guard.

"What are the charges?" She demanded with an arrogant toss of her chin. Razhoul let out a raucous laugh that was akin to gravel being sprayed during a thunderstorm. Nadja refrained from curling her lip in disdain; Mozenrath did not, and sneered, longing to turn this pitiable band of sellswords to dust beneath his feet.

"As if I need to name the charges! Very well then. Rashad! Read the snake the list of her crimes, and her loving sorcerer too. I am sure he is anxious to know why the sultan has vacated a special cell for him." As the charges were read, the duo listened. Mozenrath smirked, not once regretting any of the grievances and transgressions he'd forced upon Aladdin and his band but when both were charged with kidnapping and defiling the princess of Agrabah, Nadja snapped first.

"What?! After we toiled and suffered to keep her alive your foolish sultan believes it was we who defiled her? Perhaps she has not been so honest about her ordeal as I have hoped." Nadja's voice had taken on the tone of a regal queen and Mozenrath was surprised how suited to the role she was; well and so, as the mount she rode added to the effect. Razhoul was slightly unnerved at the Adder's presence, having heard tell of her lethal prowess, but he stood his ground. He had not ascended in the rank by cowering at the sight of a deadly warrior on horseback.

"That is not my decision. I am only acting under orders, as I am sure you understand. Now, you will come quietly or…" And his gap-toothed grin morphed his harsh face and the men at his aft brandished their weapons eagerly. "…we will make you come quietly." Nadja's eyes narrowed and for a moment she and Razhoul held one another's gazes, and finally Nadja sneered and swung her leg over the saddle, settling booted feet on the black sands soundlessly. Mozenrath followed suit and was soon accosted by several men. Nadja scarce had time to act when one of them wrenched the Gauntlet from the man's arm, revealing the skeletal arm in time for bony fingers to clasp a man's face in the same way he'd attacked Nadja. The man tore away, bleeding before someone took a hilt to Mozenrath's temple, disorienting him. Nadja waited, poised to draw her blades when Razhoul's sword pressed against her throat, warning her to take no action or meet her executioner on the sands. Nadja relaxed as Mozenrath was hauled unceremoniously into the saddle, his hands bound. Razhoul chuckled, and Nadja felt his breath at her ear and sneered. She accepted her binds without malcontent, though she made sure to spare Razhoul as many spiteful glances she could muster as they were led Eastward to Agrabah.

_I'm __**just a soul**__ whose __**intentions are good**__, so please don't let me be __**misunderstood**__._

Aladdin was dismayed to find that he had arrived at the Citadel a day late and that Mozenrath and Nadja had been taken into custody and brought to Agrabah to face their punishment for their crimes. While he was at least relieved that someone other than himself had taken matters into their own hands, he was mildly worried of how Jasmine would take this. Thus, when he arrived, he was surprised to see Jasmine and the sultan already quarreling in the hallway. Genie, Iago, Abu, and Carpet kept their distance, though they were not far from Aladdin as he approached the storm gathering outside the throne room doors.

"You told me they would be given a fair trial!" Jasmine shouted her expression equal parts hurt and equal parts angered. Aladdin stilled his tongue until he gleaned what had happened.

"A fair trial, yes, but they can not roam around as if they were guests invited to stay the night. They will pass their time until their trial in the dungeons like any other criminal. I'll have Genie fortify their cells to assure we've no more slip-ups." And at that he looked pointedly at Aladdin who had, despite magical aid, managed to slip from the dungeons along with his monkey friend. Jasmine's gaze cut to Aladdin like scythe and he was hard-pressed not to blanche at her expression.

"I think he's right," he said instead, ignoring Jasmine's hurt expression, "I mean, Nadja's not some two-dinari thief here. She's a highly trained professional killer…and Mozenrath is just as bad, only he uses magic to get the job done. We can't take any chances." Jasmine moved to protest but Aladdin continued, feeling he needed to say this. "I know you say they helped you when you were trapped in Amoria with them, and that's great, but what about all the stunts they pulled before you guys fell through that portal? Are you gonna let their forced friendship absolve them of killing a sultan—your childhood friend no less?" For some reason, Jasmine wanted to say yes, but she was wounded, and like a cornered animal, she struck back.

"My father eradicated a law for you, Aladdin. For us to be together. You're a thief—and don't give me that 'I steal because I need to' line. You're not of royal blood and yet for love of you I beseeched my father on your behalf. If your saving Agrabah convinced my father you may not just be a money-grubbing street rat as everyone _else _seems to believe, what makes Nadja and Mozenrath any different?" Aladdin was silent—everyone was. He hadn't known that all this time Jasmine had been sitting on that particular thought. He had assumed his social standing was not an issue, and it seemed he was beginning to see the pattern of truth.

"So that's what everyone thinks? I'm just out to marry you to get rich? And what about you, Jasmine? Sneaking out of the palace because you want to slum it with the locals—you want to blend in." Aladdin's tone was biting and the sultan looked between the two even as Genie produced a fan to proverbially cool the anger heating up the hallway.

"You were so enthralled with me because I offered you that little spice of life you needed to break away from being cooped up in the palace all your life. But now that we've been on a few adventures together, you're doing things your way. If you don't want my help in this, Jasmine, say so, but don't try and use my social status as a card in your current mind-game." He didn't give the princess or her father a chance to respond, walking away with his friends—the only true friends who had stuck by him for better or worse—and heading back home. If Jasmine was besotted with the sorcerer, then let her be. The minute Mozenrath was fully recovered and started stirring up the pot with old plots again, she'd have no choice but to call him for help. She was a formidable opponent, yes, but teamwork had gotten them through most of their adventures.

And love.

Aladdin didn't want to think about love right now, and as Carpet flew him back to his humble abode, he was aware of the uncharacteristic silence of his friends. Tired from his travels, and drained from his quarrel with Jasmine, Aladdin decided sleep would clear his head and allow him to decide what to do should all fall through.

_I was rolling around in my mind it occurred: what if __**God was a her**__?_

_Would I __**treat Her the same**__, would I still be running game on Her? _

_In what type of ways would __**I want Her**__?_

The cold, damp atmosphere of the dungeons did little to diminish her spirits, and when the guards had hauled her into the manacles that left her suspended against the wall, she had done little more than let out a barking laugh only to be struck across the face by Razhoul himself.

"When the sultan orders your execution, I will be all too happy to lop that pretty head from your arrogant shoulders." He sneered with a menacing grin and Nadja laughed in his face.

"Easy, Razhoul. In some cultures that is a pick-up line!" And he struck her again, and left the dungeon with a growl. Mozenrath, for once, had not been the source of insolence in this regard, and watched Nadja, who looked threatening even when in bondage.

"You know, if you goad him, he could kill you and claim it was an accident…or self-defense." Mozenrath stated dryly and Nadja turned her head as much as her chains would allow to look upon him, like a chained, pale Adonis, his black hair falling in curls over his outstretched shoulders, his breath seen easily through the rise and fall of his slender chest. Nadja found that despite his lack of godhood, he looked resplendent in the poorly lit chamber. She even found the bleached bones of his skeletal hand appealing. Nadja took in a deep breath and exhaled. "I know." She said finally and Mozenrath's expression turned to one of worry and vexation. For a while neither said anything, letting the silence be filled insufficiently with the occasional jangling of their chains as each adjusted as much as the strain would allow. It was mayhap an hour or so before they heard the heavy bolt of the door being moved and the jingling of a key before the lock was undone and the door swung open with an ominous creak. Nadja swung her tired gaze to the torchlit doorway. Slender and delicate, Jasmine stood like a wilting flower, stepping fully within the doorway, crossing the threshold to allow her former comrades to look upon her. Nadja managed a lopsided smirk and Mozenrath's expression was withdrawn, as if Jasmine was not who he had wanted to walk through the door.

"Well, princess. I expected you'd come to see us, being that you failed to tell your beloved sultan that were it not for our heroics, you would have never seen daylight again." Nadja's voice, through her saccharine smile, was like a spear of ice, melting and freezing, suffusing into Jasmine's blood like veritable poison. Jasmine did not wilt beneath Nadja accusatory glower. "I did tell him, but he says that while he is thankful for it, it does not absolve you of your other crimes." Nadja rolled her eyes, although the princess spoke truth. It was why Nadja had not stayed in Agrabah—at least; it was one of the reasons. Mozenrath snorted.

"And does the sultan think I care? I am only here because Nadja insisted that we stand trial as opposed to doing more important things." Nadja cut him a sidelong glance before she smiled at the sorcerer, understanding his frustration, but this was part of her plan.

"Jasmine, let us stand trial…let us face judgment. It is only right."

"What?!" Mozenrath practically shrieked. "Nadja you are a kille—a _killer_! Since when have you cared about what is _right_? When did you sprout a conscience?!" Jasmine's brows furrowed and she held up her hands.

"I don't have any way to convince my father otherwise, Nadja. And have you no one to defend you at trial?" Nadja gave the princess a shrewd glance, pursing her lips. It was obvious the two in chains were guilty of the charges against them…all save one, which was what Nadja intended to rectify in court. Jasmine sighed, lifting her hands to smooth locks of onyx from the assassin's beautiful face. Seeing that Nadja was resolute in her decision, she pressed a kiss to the woman's forehead.

"I pray your judgment is true in this, Nadja. For what it is worth, you have my gratitude for all you've done for me." Nadja gave a wry smile, although it never quite reached her eyes. Jasmine went to Mozenrath then, unsure of what to do. Mozenrath, to his credit, did not lack for humor.

"No kiss? Jasmine I'm hurt. You'll kiss the woman but not me?" Nadja rolled her eyes and Jasmine pursed her lips, thinking a moment. Lifting two fingers, she pressed her lips to them, and then to Mozenrath's lips, and the sorcerer smiled against them. For some reason, Nadja felt the rising bile of jealousy before Jasmine put distance between the two prisoners and herself. When she bid them farewell, and the cell door shut behind her with an ominously loud _click _of locks and bolts, Nadja snorted.

"She was telling the truth, wasn't she? She spoke truly about trying to convince her father that we were her protectors." Nadja's voice was quiet and controlled, and she heard the jingling of chains as Mozenrath nodded. With a sigh, Nadja adjusted her head. It would not do well to go stand trial with a tired mind, and Mozenrath, being equal parts scholar and equal parts wizard silently acceded to sleep.

_That which __**yields**__ is not __**always weak**__._

The trial was held the following morning, and with Agrabah's nobles in attendance, so too came the sultans and sultanas of the neighboring realms. To all of the Seven Deserts, this was a long time in the coming for Mozenrath. With Nadja, they suspected she was merely acting under contract. None save Aladdin and Jasmine knew the two had become lovers in light of all that had subsequently transpired in the following months. Nadja and Mozenrath were not present but as the crowd gathered, the seats were filled, but there was standing room to be taken as well. The sultan of Agrabah sat in the center of the large row of judicial benches, with his councilors at his left and right to fill the rest of the prescribed seats. When all was settled, the trial was called to order and the prisoners were led into the room, bathed in the scathing looks of all those present as they made their way to stand before the sultan and face judgment. To his credit, Mozenrath was as arrogant and smug as ever, making a spectacle of his chains, making them jingle loudly as he walked, but to Jasmine, who was seated at the fore of the crowd in attendance with Aladdin and his friends, she knew it was a spectacle and no more. Nadja entered with the cool, liquid grace of a predator in captivity, the chains that bound her barely audible. When both stood before the sultan and his councilors, they saw that his expression was dour and unfeeling. For all that he looked and acted a bumbling fool, when faced with matters of the state, he did not lack for resolve.

_And_, Nadja thought silently, _mayhap he does not lack for mercy either._

"Nadja Maharat and Mozenrath of the Black Sand, you stand accused of high treason and murder of a sultan of the Seven Deserts. Do you refute these charges?" Where had the compassion that had been so eminent in his voice gone? Jasmine did not know this side of her father. She had never seen him this adamant about bringing a criminal to justice. Nadja's eyes were unreadable, her expression a mask of serenity. Mozenrath's lip curled.

"Sultan when have I ever made an attempt to conquer the Seven Deserts by non-magical means?" The sultan was not amused by Mozenrath's display, and it showed in the way his jowls quivered beneath the white beard.

"Do you refute the charges or no?"

"I refute the charges." Nadja did not react outwardly, but inwardly she wondered at Mozenrath's lie—and why he had told it. She saw Jasmine's troubled look and Aladdin rolling eyes at Mozenrath's farce.

"I refute the charges, your grace," Nadja said smoothly, "as I was only acting as an emissary on Mozenrath's behalf," she wondered why she was lying as well. Ah! The logic of the heart was indeed absurd. "If there was aught amiss about my actions, I can only point you in the direction of the leaders of these nations and question them as to why their kingdoms are in a state of arrest." The sultan's eyes narrowed on Nadja. Mozenrath, he was used to dealing with, as the boy had no qualms with getting a verbal quip in when the opportunity to arose. Nadja's was a subtle barbing that was designed to hurt long after she was out of harm's way. Yet, her words held a merit of truth to them. She alone could not have caused such civil unrest by word alone if there had been nothing there to cultivate to begin with. He heard the murmur of outrage in the crowd amidst the nobles and royalty present.

"You do know, that you have also been charged with the murder of Dastan, sovereign ruler of Madina." Nadja raised a brow. Jasmine clenched her hands in her lap, eyes downcast beneath her veil. Aladdin's jaw set, but he would not be allowed to speak against the two until he was called, but stilling his tongue was by far the hardest thing he had to do.

"I do, but I can assure you that if I had aught to do with Dastan's murder, it was in trying to win his favor that he may ally with Mozenrath. Perhaps you should query as to why the murder occurred shortly after your daughter's appearance in Dastan." The Adder had surfaced to overtake the woman, and she held no remorse for implicating Jasmine. One hand to deal out mercy, the other to deal out vengeance. They were not in Amoria any longer, and as their time their had little standing as to this trial, Nadja did not trouble herself over selling out the princess who had done so very little to win their freedom, but had done so much to be able to marry that filthy street rat at her side. Mozenrath sneered visibly at the thought that echoed Nadja's own. So it was that both took their pleasure in watching the color drain from Jasmine's face. Nadja's eyes, however, searched the sultan's face for a sign of change. She saw it, although it was but a flicker in the storm of his stern anger, it was there. Jasmine's appearance and Dastan's death had been too close, but he would never openly accuse his daughter of murder. At the same time, it was entirely too easy to blame Nadja and Mozenrath for the pitfalls that faced the Seven Deserts and their kingdoms.

"You make a grave assumption, Nadja Maharat." The sultan said; his voice like ice and Nadja inclined her chin. "Almost as grave as the ones made against Mozenrath and myself. If I am guilty of all these charges, why would I have brought the princess back to you alive?"

"To brand her a murderess it seems," A voice said from the crowd, though Nadja could not discern from which kingdom from the accent.

"That may very well be true," Mozenrath argued in his and Nadja's defense, "as I specifically told Nadja to stick to treaty agreements. I have it on good authority that the sultan of Madina was as debauched as that of Persis, and that more than twice he made an illicit advance on my ambassador. If you are to brand my subordinate as a murderess, then know that it would not have helped my case to ally myself with the Seven Deserts." Finally, Aladdin spoke up, having become fed up with the two and their smug demeanor.

"Mozenrath you can't say anything! You have made countless attempts on the lives of me and my friends. Just because you changed your methods doesn't mean the intentions aren't the same!" He snapped, rising from his seat. The sultan motioned for Aladdin to be seated but the thief didn't listen. He pointed at Mozenrath.

"He shouldn't even be on trial right now. His crimes are so obvious and he's not denying anything. He's just talking in circles and you all are dizzy with it. What would possess Jasmine to murder Dastan, Nadja? She went to Madina to uncover your plot, and the minute she got close you killed Dastan and made it look like she did it. That makes no sense!" Nadja raised a brow.

"Doesn't it? An ambitious young princess—and do not deny that Jasmine lacks for ambition—going to uncover suspicions about a plot surrounding Mozenrath. Think on it…does it not seem entirely too convenient that she arrived shortly after I did, and knowing whom I served, did it not seem easy enough to shift the blame? Mozenrath has been your enemy in the past, but he could have left us both cold and broken in Amoria while he alone escaped. He tried, once, and failed, and led us out of that hell without even asking so much as an ounce of compassion or payment from either of us. Why does this not absolve him at least?"

"That is _enough_." The sultan's voice rang like the single toll of a large church bell and the burgeoning murmur in the crowd died down to silence. "Aladdin, please, sit down. We have a witness who says he witnessed Nadja killed the sultan of Madina." This caught the Adder off guard and gave Jasmine a measure of relief, though her fury at Nadja and Mozenrath's attempt to brand her as Dastan's killer had far from cooled and she hoped her father sought justice—swiftly. Aladdin took his seat next to Jasmine and glowered darkly. Mozenrath frowned at Nadja and mouthed the words "nicely done". Nadja smirked; she could almost hear his wry tone of voice.

"Majesty, might I ask who this witness is?" Nadja inquired and the sultan nodded to the guard standing by a side door.

"Elian Veruna, part of Dastan's elite personal guard." Nadja's eyes narrowed. She had thought she killed all of Dastan's guards that night. She knew which one still yet lived, as she had cleaved his companion's head with a hand axe after he had put an arrow in her chest and sent her tumbling to the ground below. As the young blond was led in, he kept his eyes distinctly away from Nadja. There, before all in the courtroom, Elian relayed the entire battle to those present and the sultan absorbed it with a level head.

"The sultan's signet ring was also missing."

"Thief _and _murderer?" The whisper rippled. Nadja hid a smirk. She knew where the prince's signet ring was, but she would say nothing.

"Well, Nadja, Mozenrath, is this true? Do you refute his tale?" Nadja cocked a brow and glanced at Mozenrath who shrugged. Nadja turned her gaze back to the sultan.

"My liege, what use would I have for a silly family heirloom if I killed Dastan?"

"You could have used it as proof to Mozenrath that the deed was done." Jasmine spoke up and Nadja smiled coldly.

"Ah but princess, that would be how you would have done it, would it not? Tell me, that bundle you hid from all at the fête the night Dastan was killed, what was it?" She spoke, of course, of the gift she had given Jasmine and the only one who had seen it given was Dastan who had been high on opium at the time and was now no longer here to testify. Jasmine's eyes narrowed and she remembered opening the bundle and seeing the ring, which sat in a small embroidered box in her room. Nadja chuckled.

"Should have hid your tracks better, Jasmine; or perhaps you had help," and Nadja glanced to Aladdin, "The only proof that is believable is to bring the head directly to the one who contracted you, something I would have done were I capable of such a heinous crime." The sultan's face was red with rage, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. If Nadja spoke truly, and Elian's tale of the woman with dark eyes and dark hair was true, then he would have to have Jasmine questioned as well. Instead, when the horologer cried the time of day, he rubbed his temples.

"That is enough for today. We will reconvene on the morrow. Guards, see the prisoners back to their cells and see that our guests are safely escorted back to their living quarters." Thus did the trial extend to another day.

_In life, __**our friends know us**__; in adversity, __**we know our friends**__._

That evening, suspended once more in bondage, Mozenrath and Nadja quarreled.

"I should be a god amongst insects by now! What were you _thinking _when you implicated Jasmine like that?" Mozenrath practically hissed, straining against his binds from the action. Nadja shrugged as best she could and leaned her head back.

"I wasn't, but I remember telling you I'd implicate her. It is why I gave her the sultan's ring. I knew she would not recognize it for what it was. Honestly I'm surprised she kept it…and I'm glad she did. Really, Mozenrath, 'dark eyes' and 'dark hair'? That could be anyone. I fight with unmarked weapons, in unmarked clothes, and try to leave no tracks. I hadn't reckoned on that idiot coming forward, let alone not killing himself for the fear that seized his face."

"You _knew _he lived and did not think to go back and finish him off?" Mozenrath's tone burned with contempt and Nadja struggled in her chains, turning as far as they'd allow, fixing him with a hot glare.

"If you recall, that was the same night in which the _Immortalis _you summoned were busy murdering my comrades while I sought to discern the reason behind your betrayal." Her words were harsh and she silently did not apologize for her unkindness—it was well-deserved, and Mozenrath drew back, feeling the sting of bitterness against his pride. If nothing else, he loved Nadja for what she was—no more, no less—and if they managed to survive this, he would accept her back in the Citadel and his undead kingdom; she who could match his knowledge in magic and wit, could wear the mask of seductress one moment and the cap of a scholar the next. Jasmine had been too sheltered, and in the end, it had been her purity and shrewd bravery that had piqued his interest to begin with. But there was a desire that burned hot within him, and it seemed only Nadja could kindle to its raging flame. He knew her unkind words were well-deserved and his voice was quiet when he spoke.

"You grieve for them…?" It was more a question then an assuming statement and Nadja said nothing. She grieved for they who had known her from a knock-kneed girl-child to the radiant blossom that hung in chains now; they who had ridden into danger with her cheek-to-jowl and back out.

"I would have crossed hell and done more had I known the _Immortalis _would overpower them so. They were always underestimating those creatures, Sadique and Ibrahim, for all their cunning and prowess; they were still men resting on laurels earned by blood and steel." Her voice held a twinge of sadness in its inflection and Mozenrath nodded. He understood what it was like to have people who mattered taken from you. Mayhap not quite the same situation, but Destane had taken his mother, who if nothing else, had loved him unconditionally where his father turned his head in shame of his son's hubris. Mozenrath's only desire then was to obtain as much power as he could, and the hunger that drove him was unnamed but upon discovering he was a god in his past life…he knew why. A god robbed of his might would want it back, and it was why he knew, in his very marrow that ultimate power was his birthright. For a while, the two said nothing and Nadja began to laugh quietly.

"What a pair we make. An assassin and a sorcerer who wants to be a god." She shook her head, knowing that in some part of herself it was fear which drove her to laughter when there was indeed nothing amusing about their situation. Mozenrath smiled.

"We could still make an escape. I know you've escape worse than these chains…" His suggestion was cast like a line on the open waters of the ocean, its lure bobbing as the sorcerer was unsure of what sort of predator he would draw with it. Nadja said nothing in response, and for good reason, as she heard the locks and bolts of the door turning and the door swinging open. For once the creak of its hinges did not sound so menacing…just lonely. It was Jasmine, and Nadja had not been expecting that. Jasmine's expression was cool and composed, but when she spoke, her voice held a fury that boiled beneath her skin. The first thing she did was strike Nadja hard across the face. IF nothing else, Jasmine did not pull her punches and the chains fair rattled from the severity of the blow. The Adder, on instinct, would have slain the girl if not for being bound. The predator's rage died down quickly, and in its place came amused laughter as she licked the blood from her split lip.

"You dare attempt to sully my name to save your own hide!" She hissed indignantly and Mozenrath found himself irritated at the girl's presence. He yawned obnoxiously, but Jasmine did nothing save bathe him in the magma of her scourging gaze.

"Yes, I dare, Jasmine. If nothing else, I should be upset that you did not do more than wring your hands in your lap while your father and fiancée named us as murderers and all manner of villainy. Honestly, Jasmine, when have the gods ever listened when it came to politics?" Nadja's words were calm and amused and the princess' brows furrowed as the pattern came together.

"You planned this…this implicating me in the murder. And now my father looks upon me with suspicion. You planned all of this?" Nadja did not respond immediately, but it was answer enough for her.

"Why?" The word was a breathless whisper, and on its heels rode anguish.

"As a failsafe, should the original intention fail. And…because I could." To hear the words, spoken so plainly, as if all they had encountered in Amoria had been but child's play. Jasmine knew that the signet ring was proof enough of the murder, but she hadn't reckoned on Nadja planning that far. A Machiavellian villainess if ever there was one. Jasmine had let their trials be a base for something more, and in that foolish idealistic thinking she had forgotten that Nadja was born to this…this treachery, and Mozenrath all too easily let the Adder do for him what he would have done had he the ease and finesse with which Nadja so flawlessly performed.

"You won't get away with this, Nadja. I'll be exonerated, and you will did beneath the executioner's blade." Nadja did not say what she and Mozenrath were thinking. Kill the last of the _Viperinae_. If the _Immortalis _were to retrace their steps, only to find some bumbling fool of a sultan had had the Adder executed, they'd be bereft of defense against the ensuing onslaught. Nadja said nothing, however, letting Jasmine claim the false victory. Jasmine shook her head.

"And all this time I thought you two had changed for the better." Nadja raised a brow.

"Can a leopard change its spots; or can a viper surrender its bittersweet poison? I am what I am princess, and more fool you are if you think it can be forgotten and expunged so easily." Jasmine did not fault Nadja for falling back into familiar habits, but to Mozenrath she said, "And what's your excuse?" Mozenrath gave her a sly grin.

"When, in all our time in Amoria or anywhere else our journey took us did I ever give you reason to believe I had abandoned my desire for conquest and power?" It was true; not once did Mozenrath ever say he would give up on that which he now believed was his by birthright. Jasmine had queried as to whether he would abandon his dreams of conquest and ruling the Seven Deserts and beyond. His response had been that he was weighing his options, and Jasmine realized with startling clarity that Aladdin had been in the right—Mozenrath would never change, nor would Nadja. And now that Mozenrath could evoke the powers of a god, all the worse for them. Jasmine left, promising that justice would prevail irrespective of former alliances, and the two watched as she left, believing herself to be their only hope of escape. Mozenrath's expression turned dour.

"What now, Nadja? We are mired in their politicking and for all your charm and my cunning, we will be judged and executed on the morrow of a surety." Nadja shook her head, the chains responding to his despairing with a dark jingle.

"We've an endgame to play yet…one that no one will quiet expect." And Mozenrath wondered if Nadja had been a politician in her past life, the way she played this game of thrones. In the darkness, they laid their quarrel to rest and decided to sleep to await another day of judgment.


	15. The Judgment of Mercy

**Author's Note: **After a long break, finals, and most likely failing all of my classes, I decided to take up writing. I admit, I had the life sucked out of my muse due to a myriad of distractions, and I will inform you dear readers, that this is the final chapter of _Viperinae_. See the ending note for details.

_Viperinae_

By Shadovar

_Sometimes __**bad guys make the best good guys**__._

"I assure you, majesty, I was well-aware of what was going on. But I will reiterate the point I made clear to Princes Jasmine: I did nothing to cause the state of civil unrest within these kingdoms. The decadence of the royal courts and the negligent behavior of the rulers were but opportunities to be taken advantage of. I merely used the tools provided to me. It would take a great deal of time to provoke a civil war if all was truly at peace in the Seven Deserts." Nadja's voice was like honey dripping into a faceted crystal. It sparkled and dazzled, and yet the prize was just out of reach from their tongues. Nadja was unnervingly calm throughout the day's trial, and Mozenrath hoped that this card she claimed they had to play would come up soon. Thus far, he saw only execution in their near futures. Jasmine sat within the benches reserved for the high-born, her expression calm and composed. Nadja's gaze met hers once and the air fair crackled with hostility. She had played to Jasmine's temper in hopes to get the girl to act irrationally.

"And yet she was content to sleep with the sultan! Content to seduce the man she was sent to entreaty on behalf of her demon of a master!" The voice was that of a council member from Persis. The sultan was not presence, as he was pressed with matters within his own borders. Nadja's brows rose, her expression deceptively bored. Mozenrath mirrored her expression wondering if the verdict would ever be decided upon, or if every disgruntled member in the courtroom would be allowed to voice their frustration before the year was out!

"I daresay I did not have to seduce anyone, councilor," Nadja retorted coolly, "As it was the sultan who came to me with that particular proposition. I declined and it was the reason no decision regarding a treaty was ever reached. The fact that civil unrest sparked in the aftermath was but coincidence. Perhaps he should learn to listen to his people."

Grave accusations, indeed. Mozenrath's expression was grim. He was not sure how Nadja was planning to save them. He had been stripped of his gauntlet, and even with her prowess, sheer numbers would overwhelm her if she decided to fight her way out. Nadja watched the sultan consider it, and by law, while she had aided in the conspiracy that had nearly unearthed the entire foundation of the Seven Deserts, she was correct. She had merely seen an opportunity and exploited it when it was readily provided. But while he could exile her, or at a slim chance, pardon her, Mozenrath had blatantly attempted to take their lives without remorse. The sultan said as much, and the currents of agreement had what little color there was draining from Mozenrath's face.

"As it stands, Mozenrath still has previous crimes to answer for."

"Majesty, if I may interject…there is reasoning behind the madness, I assure you—" The sultan held up one hand to silence the assassin. Mozenrath wondered what sort of mess this woman would drag them into next.

"He can not go unpunished for his crimes, and I will not pass sentences lightly. As it stands, he is charged and will be tried separately for those crimes at a later date. You were saying, Nadja?" The assassin finally took one glance at Mozenrath, the man who had been her lover twice over, her enemy once, and her handler never.

"There was something taken from him long ago, something very valuable and precious to him, and he sought my aid in finding it before your men arrested us. It was nothing he could use to harm himself or anyone else, but rather a lost piece of the home he had been stolen from." She saw the weariness in Jasmine's features wane into one of surprise. Suspicious, Aladdin glanced between the two women. Nadja lifted her chained hands in the gesture of surrender.

"I do not expect anyone in here to sympathize or even understand what it is that I speak of, but I can only guess that his ambition stems from his yearning for whatever it is that was lost to him." While she saw a myriad of reactions across the courtroom, the sultan seemed unmoved as of yet.

"So you say. But that does not justify his crimes. Tell me, Mozenrath, what is it that you lost that you needed to nearly kill us all to find it?" Mozenrath glanced to Nadja, who gave a solemn incline of her head. They might as well tell the truth, as no lie had broken their chains thus far.

"My godhood," he replied smoothly and there was a breathless murmur of outrage rumbling in the assembled peers of the realm. "Majesty, you know as well as I that magic lives and breathes around us. I had the luxury of finding out, in Amoria, that I had once been a god of light, beauty, and the cosmos." Still, the sultan sat unmoved, but Nadja hoped that Jasmine would at least confirm that aspect of the tale. It was true, after all.

"And were it not for that knowledge being revealed to me, I would not have been able to evoke the power necessary to save your daughter." Nadja watched Jasmine from the peripheries of her vision, seeing the shame color her cheeks as she bit her tongue to condemn her once-allies. Mozenrath looked up and the sultan measured the breadth of his tale, glancing toward his daughter.

"Can you corroborate this outlandish tale, Jasmine?" Jasmine looked up sharply, the breaths in her chest coming more labored as she fought between being honest and withholding the knowledge that may very well spare Mozenrath's life. The entire assembly seemed trained upon her, the world's next rotation depending entirely upon her response.

"Yes, because I'm the one who found out and told him." Aladdin looked somewhat surprised that Jasmine would help Mozenrath, but he did not seem to understand that Mozenrath had been the only one who could get them out of there. Short as the ordeal may have been in this world, it felt like an eternity in Amoria. Nadja bit her lip in thought. The sultan considered both the Adder and her former keeper with a measured and cool gravity that said while his mind had already been made up, he would not pass sentence just yet.

"And how can we be certain he will not evoke that god's power and bring down hell upon us all?" A peer of the realm demanded; from Dastan, judging by the accent. Mozenrath's lip curled.

"Have you fools been deaf this entire time? The god I used to be was one of good! It was Aoki who was evil—it was Aoki who hurt Jasmine. _I _saved her." Nadja said nothing, and nor did anyone else in the wake of the outburst. He was right, though, and Jasmine could not fault him. Despite all his previous crimes, it was hard to judge him harshly when he had saved her life knowing he didn't have to do anything of the sort. He had carried her and Nadja to safety, provided them with magical protection in the Amorian Hinterlands, shared in their joy, pain, sorrow, and suffering beneath the oppressive might of a mad god of fire and darkness. Jasmine could not judge him, but she could easily judge Nadja, who had been swift to condemn her in the eyes of the realm when the convictions had been turned against her favor. Jasmine wanted to see justice done, and mercy granted. The only question was what sort of justice and mercy would be suitable for the two villains? The sultan weighed them heavily, rubbing his temples at the massively complex quandary laid at his feet.

"Very well, then. We can not ignore the fact that Mozenrath saved Jasmine from certain death—when he did not have to. Nor can we ignore that previously, he has made numerous attempts to usurp power from us all. If—and I use this term seriously—you are given a six month grace period to prove your claim as a former deity, you must swear on whatever it is that binds your loyalty, to never be seen in the Seven Desert kingdoms again." Nadja's gaze swung to settle on the sorcerer. He looked so proud, then, with his chin held high in defiance, his expression one of cold resolution, accepting his fate even when the assembly at his back did not. There were cries demanding beheading and other gruesome executions. But the sultan held up his hand before the roar grew too loud.

"I have spoken. If Mozenrath can prove his claim in the next six months, I will reduce his sentence to exile. If there are no results, or he attempts to set foot in one of our kingdoms again, his life will be forfeit." Aladdin frowned. He didn't like the idea of killing, thinking that everyone had a bit of good in them. Jasmine seemed to be relieved and disdainful towards the proclamation.

"Mozenrath, in the eyes of God and this courtroom, do you swear that you will never set foot in the Seven Deserts again—either of you—and that you will prove this claim in the next half-year?" The sultan asked coldly. Nadja did not know the exile applied to her too. Well and so, she was just as dangerous in her own right. Mozenrath inclined his head.

"On the Gauntlet, I swear it, Your Majesty." Aladdin rolled his eyes. What good was the word of Mozenrath, Gauntlet or no? They would find out in the next six months. As the sultan brought down his gavel, he declared the case closed, and that Nadja and Mozenrath were free to return to the Land of the Black Sand. In six months' time, Mozenrath would either be a god, or he would be dead. Nadja likewise felt the gravity of eyes at her back as she was returned her weapons and clothes, and Mozenrath his Gauntlet. The two were given swift horses and were escorted by a squadron of the best guards all the way to the gates of Agrabah, with the crowds jeering them the entire way. Once they were out they were told to make haste or the archers on the city walls would be given leave to fire at will. Mozenrath and Nadja rode hell-for-leather into the desert, and by the time the sun set, burning the sky in fire and blood, Mozenrath's anger had cooled, and Nadja was relieved that once again, she'd been drawn from the jowls of death.

"You could have gotten us killed with the lies you spun in that courtroom!" Mozenrath hissed as they abandoned their horses, cutting the reins and girth, slapping their rears and letting them spirit off into another direction. Nadja was gathering their waterskins as Mozenrath prepared the spell that would take them directly to the Citadel. She rolled her eyes.

"I was biding my time with those lies, Mozenrath. Implicating Jasmine had been my original plan, but I should have known that old fool would never look at his doted-upon daughter as a treasonous snake. Nor did I count on the truth actually working in our favor. But you gave your word."

"I am going to destroy them all." Mozenrath cast the spell, and Nadja was aware of the vertigo that overtook her senses as they shifted between worlds and her feet, then knees, crashed onto sand the color of a lightless night sky.

"Your life is forfeit the minute they see you, or sense whatever scheme it is you're concocting." Nadja paused, biting her lip as the doors opened and they entered the dark, brooding palace wordlessly guarded by the undead.

"You know, the minute you reclaim your godhood, I think destroying the Seven Deserts and their peoples will be furthest from your mind. Aniki was a god of goodness, and what you want to do right now is the exact opposite of what your former self stood for." Mozenrath turned on Nadja, his lip curled into a snarl.

"Do not presume to tell me how to exercise my power, Adder. I have spared you because you are useful to me."

"And because you love me, Mozenrath. You need me by your side to do this because you're uncertain of what will happen if you succeed." Mozenrath drew back as if he had been slapped. He had not voiced his fears openly to her, but she was good as dissembling him after being so intimate in his company this past year. Nadja held a waterskin in each hand, watching him and waiting for whatever it was he planned to do. She saw the Gauntlet make a fist, then unclench, clench, and then unclench. He could no more deny her than he could deny himself.

"Only six months, Nadja," his voice sounded rough and fatigued, "six months to prove I was not only a god, but that I was a good god. We've no more information on what I was than what I've managed to gather." Nadja sighed, licking her dried lips before opening a waterskin to take a much-needed drink.

"There is one option, but it is risky." Mozenrath looked up and was about to protest when Nadja held up her arm to silence him. "Aoki was your brother in your other life, Mozenrath. He has lived without incarnation, and you know as well as I that he is the only one who holds the answers you seek. If you want this done, then we must return to Amoria." Both recalled the rage Aoki had exacted when Mozenrath evoked Aniki's essence to aid in their escape. Both had felt the promise of a terrible, terrible vengeance should they ever return to Amoria. Nadja and Mozenrath met each other's gazes, and she saw the heavy weight of acceptance in his eyes, making him look so tired.

"Then we shall go to Amoria in a week's time." Nadja smiled grimly, knowing full well that while the forfeit of their lives was imminent at the expiration of six months, the forfeit of everything including their lives was the price to be exacted by returning to the land of Mozenrath's divine roots.

_I never should have taken this contract._

**Author's Ending Note: **This is the end of the story, guys. The sequel will be in the works soon, but I highly doubt it will be _too soon_. I wanted to end it on their adventures in the Seven Deserts and move the sequel along to Mozenrath's quest to reclaim his godhood. If he succeeds, I'm unsure of how he will use his power; if he fails, well…everyone in the sequel dies and Aoki wins. So, we'll see. Read and review, and tell me what you think.


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